If talking to Rose alone had been difficult and awkward, then talking to her with Jack in the room was next to impossible. Cal sat in the middle of the couch, trying his best to find a place to put his hands. Jack sat on the arm of Rose's chair, his hand on her shoulder. She was still knitting, though she had slowed considerably since Jack came, seeming more intent on participating in the conversation than on making progress on what Cal guessed was a scarf. It's for him, he realized. The blue of the wool yarn matched Jack's eyes perfectly. For reasons he didn't want to explore, the thought of Rose knitting something for Jack made him feel slightly sick.
Jack's face was expressionless. He had been smiling when he walked through the door, but the instant he saw Cal, it vanished. "What are you doing here?" he asked, not bothering to disguise his displeasure. He stepped around him and crossed over to Rose, who reached up and took his hand. She squeezed it. He laced his fingers through hers.
"I came to talk to you," Cal said. "I need to ask you..." Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Jack had been grateful to him just the day before, so grateful, in fact, it had made Cal uncomfortable, but now that was gone. His blue eyes were hard, and as Cal explained what he had come there to ask, they grew even harder. He won't help me, Cal thought. And she won't if he won't. But if Rose was willing, Jack could be persuaded. He was sure of that. He'd do anything if she was the one doing the asking.
But Rose quickly dashed his hopes. "You want us to pretend not to know you?" she asked incredulously. "So your wife won't find out what you did?" Her nose wrinkled. "I was wrong. You aren't exactly the same. The old you would have at least made a mild attempt at coercing or manipulating us."
"Mild?" Jack scoffed. His non-expression became one of disgust. "It wouldn't have even been phrased as a question."
"I deserve that," Cal said. "I do, but—"
"But nothing," Rose said. "We don't owe you anything." Sensing he was about to retort, she added, "Helping me does not make up for the things you did. It was what a decent human being would do."
"You're implying I'm a decent human being, then," Cal said.
"You have the potential. But everyone does."
Jack's mouth curved into a small smile. He didn't know what had come over him, but in that moment, he wanted Cal to suffer. He wanted him to feel the fear they had felt when he was chasing them into a sinking ship with bullets flying over their heads. He wanted him to feel the desperation he had felt while handcuffed to a pipe and left to drown. But mostly he wanted him to feel powerless, as powerless as he had tried to make Rose feel. Without realizing it, he squeezed her shoulder. She laid her hand over his. Tension rolled off him in waves. It's okay, Jack, she thought.
In the hours following Rose's near drowning, Jack hadn't cared that Cal was the one who had helped her, and if he was honest with himself, he still didn't care that it had been Cal. Rose was safe, and there wasn't much more he could ask for. After all, it wasn't like he had been able to protect her. It isn't like I took care of her, he thought, glancing at her. She pressed her hand against his again and smiled up at him. I failed her. He set his jaw and turned to face Cal. "We won't just hide this for you," he said. "You don't get out of owning up to what you did that easily. Besides," he added, "I don't think we could keep Lily quiet if we tried."
*****
Cal was still lingering near the house when Jack went back outside to collect his painting supplies. "The answer's still no," he said, not bothering to look at him.
Cal was at his side in an instant. "Why not?" he asked, keeping his voice low to reduce the chance of Rose hearing him. "Would it really be that difficult?"
"No, it really wouldn't be," Jack said icily. "But would really have been that difficult to let her go?"
"You're being awfully petty," Cal mocked. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."
"Nobody's perfect."
"Least of all you."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "I'm willing to tolerate your presence, and I'm willing to be civil to you because I don't want to make our children's lives miserable if I can help it. But the way I feel about you hasn't changed. You are different, but you're still the same asshole at your core." He took a menacing step toward Cal. "And don't you ever look at her like that again." His voice was a growl. "She's blind. She isn't stupid. And there is nothing you can say that will win her over."
A protest was on the tip of Cal's tongue, but he swallowed it. What would be the use? Jack was right. Partially right. And he's scared. The thought filled him with a quiet glee. Had he known Jack better, or even at all, he would have realized there wasn't a trace of fear anywhere in Jack's voice or expression. There was nothing but pure anger. Cal understood anger; he was sometimes overcome by his own rage, but he always found a way to use it to his advantage somehow. But for Cal, anger was like a bomb. It exploded and left a trail of debris. Jack smoldered, his rage quietly growing stronger, until he reached a breaking point.
"Are you sure you believe that?" Cal asked smoothly. "You treat her like a cracked doll. Not that I'm blaming you. I'm sure she isn't as much fun now that her...abilities are so limited. Of course," he added with a leer, "I wouldn't deny her if she wanted in my bed, sight or no sight."
Jack's hands were fists. "You son of a—" He stopped. "Don't you even think about getting close to her. Don't you even think about speaking to her."
"Or what? What could you do to me that hasn't already been done?" Cal knew he had said too much as soon as the words left his mouth. Goddammit!
"Try me," Jack said. He turned on his heel and marched back into the house.
*****
"You won't tell me what happened, will you?" Rose asked. She laid her hands on Jack's shoulders. His muscles were tense. Slowly she began kneading his shoulders through his shirt, starting with the tightest spots. With a sigh, he leaned his head back. His eyes were closed.
"Thank you," he said.
She kissed the top of his head. "It's the best I can do. For now."
Jack took her hands and pulled her around so they were facing each other. His arm snaked around her hips. She giggled as she fell into his lap.
"We have to go," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. She ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft and cool. She tried to ignore his hands sliding up her back.
"I know we do," he said.
She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "It won't be so bad," she said.
"Are you sure?"
"No," she admitted. "But what's the worst that could happen?"
*****
They were the first to arrive, but no sooner had they settled into their chairs than Jack spotted Cal's dark head from across the room. He was standing in the entryway, a perplexed expression on his face. A small woman was on his arm. Gray eyes sparkled in a pale, delicate face. Her lips could have been the tiny, sculpted lips of a porcelain doll. A flash of recognition went across her face as her eyes fell on Jack. She whispered something to Cal, and they began moving toward them.
"Here they come," Jack said.
"What are they like?" Rose asked, taking his hand.
"She's pretty," he said, doing his best to keep his mouth from moving. "They're both overdressed."
"Any sign of the children?"
"Not yet."
Rose took a deep breath, but it did nothing to slow her racing heart. What are you so nervous about? They can't do anything to you!
Jack pressed her hand. "You nervous?" he murmured.
She had to stifle a laugh. "No."
The greetings and introductions went by quickly, and all too soon they found themselves sitting in silence, Cal and Deidre on one side and Jack and Rose on the other. The tension in the air was so thick, Rose wouldn't have been surprised to hear someone choke on it.
For the first time, she began having doubts. Maybe there is a better way to do this, she thought. The reassuring pressure of Jack's hand on hers silenced the nagging voice in the back of her head.
Deidre couldn't take her eyes off them. He can't be forty, she thought. He looks so young. Jack's golden tan stood in stark contrast to Cal's pale complexion. She had never thought of him as pale before, and it was disconcerting. There was a vitality in Jack she wasn't sure she had ever seen in Cal. He had always been so self-contained, everything bubbling quietly under the surface; his self-control was incredible. Now he just seemed dull, lifeless. And Rose. She's beautiful, Deidre thought with a pang of envy. And she's older than me. She resisted the urge to look down at her dress. Suddenly it felt far too tight, too flashy, too everything.
"I like your dress," Jack said, breaking the silence. He smiled. "Is that taupe?"
"Why, yes. Yes, it is," Deidre said, surprised. "How did you know?"
"I know a little about colors. I don't think I've ever seen that one used for a dress before."
"This dress was originally supposed to be coral, but..." Deidre shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I changed it."
"It looks very nice."
"Thank you."
Rose felt a rush of love for Jack. There wasn't any situation he couldn't make better somehow. "Don't listen to him," she said. "He doesn't know a little about colors. He knows everything about them."
"I do not. I...I just..." Rose felt his grin. "Maybe," he said finally. "Maybe I know more than a little."
"I can accept that." Rose turned to Deidre. "I hope he knows more than a little. Otherwise, I've been relying on the wrong person to describe the world to me all these years."
Deidre kept her shock from showing on her face. She had known Rose was blind. Even if Cal hadn't told her, she would have been able to tell by looking at her eyes, but she had never expected her to just talk about it so openly. Why doesn't she try to hide it when she goes out? And why is he the one taking care of her? "Have—have you always been visually impaired?" she asked haltingly.
Rose smiled warmly. A person of limited means, she heard herself say. "No, not always. It actually hasn't been that long, just about seven years."
"Is that why you settled in Santa Monica?" Deidre's cheeks reddened. "Dylan told us about some of your travels," she said quickly. "And he mentioned you came here after an illness."
"We did," Jack said. His gaze was like a caress on Rose's cheek. Deidre found herself wondering what it would feel like to be looked at that way. It was clear this was not the first time Jack had looked at Rose that way, nor would it be the last. It must feel...incredibly intimate, she decided finally.
"I became very ill about eight years ago," Rose said softly. "I...I wasn't supposed to recover." Jack's hand tightened around hers. "But I did," she said, more to him than anyone else. "My eyes were incredibly weak after my fever finally broke. I wasn't as well as I thought I was, and when I fell ill again..."
"There they are!" Lily's voice rang out across the crowded dining room. "I win," she said triumphantly. Jack had never been so happy to see his daughter.