Never Say Goodbye (15 page)

“That's not an easy thing to do,” she whispered.

Without even thinking, he reached over and took her hand, cradling it between his. In the quiet of the night he heard her sharply indrawn breath, but she didn't pull away. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “Dear God, I know!” He glanced toward the picture of Elizabeth, and when he spoke his voice was choked with emotion. “I used to lie awake wondering what she would have been like as she grew up. Would she have liked soccer? Gymnastics? Chess? Would she have taken ballet lessons? Would she have been good at math? I even tried to imagine the holidays and the birthday parties and the proms we'll never share with her.” He drew a ragged breath, clearly struggling for
control. “Sometimes I still think about all that. But mostly I try to think of the joy she brought to my life. Of her enthusiasm and her infectious smile and the way she could make me feel warm inside, and important, with just a look. She gave me so many gifts in her short life, Jess. I can't bring her back, but neither can anyone take away those gifts. That's what I try to remember.”

When he looked back at Jess, tears were once more streaming down her face. He reached over and gently brushed them away, blinking back his own. “I'm sorry,” he whispered brokenly, his eyes anguished. “Dear God, I'm so sorry for all the pain I caused you!”

Jess looked down at their entwined hands. The impulse to reach for him, to let him take her in his arms and hold her until the world went away with all its grief and guilt and regrets, was so strong that it frightened her. Her need for comfort was always most intense in the quiet, dark, early-morning hours when she invariably felt most alone, and the temptation to simply follow her impulses was powerful. But in the light of day she would most likely regret such a rash action, she cautioned herself. It was too soon. And even though she believed that Scott's remorse was genuine, it couldn't restore the life she had known.

Carefully she disengaged her hand from his, struggling to ignore the disappointment in his eyes. “I'm working on forgiveness, Scott,” she told him. “But I—I can't make any promises.”

“I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking you not to shut me out. To give me a chance.”

She sighed. “I don't seem to have a lot of choice in the matter, considering how life seems to be throwing us together.”

“Maybe that's a sign.” The soft chime of a clock sounded in the darkness, and Scott glanced at his watch, angling toward the light that barely illuminated the room. “Three-thirty! You need to get some sleep.”

“What about you?”

Sleep was the last thing on his mind. “I think I'll have some coffee first.”

“All right. There's instant decaf in the cabinet by the stove.” She wrapped the throw more tightly around her and stood. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

And as she disappeared down the hall he let her parting comment echo in his mind, savoring the most wonderful words he'd heard in a long, long time.

 

“Here you are, sir.” Scott handed the customer his change, and the man folded the money together with the rest of his cash before shoving the roll of bills into his pocket. “Now let me help you get everything to your car.”

Scott moved to the other side of the counter and reached for the two trays of annuals while the man picked up a hanging basket of fuchsia.

“Looks like you're going to have a nice garden,” Scott commented as they made their way across the parking lot.

“My wife used to do all the gardening, but her arthritis has slowed her down considerably. So now she
supervises and I plant,” he said good-naturedly. “But I don't have her green thumb.”

“Well, impatiens and begonias are pretty forgiving, so they were good choices,” Scott said as the man opened his trunk and placed his plants inside. “You should be fine.”

“Thanks again for your help.”

“My pleasure.”

Scott turned and headed back toward the main building, only to pull up abruptly a few feet from the car when his gaze came to rest on a stack of folded bills that looked suspiciously like the ones the customer had just shoved into his pocket. Scott bent and picked up the money, flipping through it. There was more than two hundred dollars in the roll, he realized, recalling the days when that amount of money was just pocket change to him. Now it was a fortune. And it would certainly beef up his car fund—if he was the kind of man to be swayed by such temptation. But it just wasn't in his nature. He turned back to the car, flagging the customer down as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“I think you dropped this, sir,” he said, handing the roll of bills through the window.

The man frowned and reached into his pocket. “Good heavens! You're right. Thank you so much!” he said gratefully as he took the money. “I guess there are still some honest people around after all.”

Scott grinned and stepped back. “A few. Enjoy the flowers.”

“I will. And thanks again.”

Scott watched the man drive away, then turned back
toward the main building—only to find Seth watching the scenario from a few feet away, fists on his hips, chomping on his ever-present unlit cigar. For a moment Scott's step faltered. Though the nursery owner never said much, Scott had developed great respect for him as a businessman—and a person. Seth had not only given him a chance when few were willing to take on an ex-con, but had steadily increased Scott's responsibility. After Scott's first design project went well, Seth had moved him permanently into the retail side of the business and funneled more such projects his way. He'd also given him a nice bump in salary. So even though Seth didn't offer much verbal praise, his actions spoke loud and clear. But right now Scott wasn't quite sure how to read the enigmatic look on the man's face. And he certainly wasn't expecting the man's first words.

“I think I found you a car.”

Scott stared at him, his expression momentarily blank. “A car?”

Seth gave a quick nod. “I have a friend who's a mechanic. I asked him to keep an eye out for you. He thinks he's got a good one.” Seth gave Scott the particulars, including the attractive price. “You can trust Les. He's a good man. I told him you might stop by on your lunch hour to take a look.”

“I'd like to,” Scott said with a frown. “But I'm already short on hours today.” His work day had started with an apology to Seth for his late arrival because of the unfamiliar bus schedule from Jess's condo.

Seth waved his comment aside. “You work harder
in eight hours than most people do in twelve. Don't worry about it. I have to run an errand at lunch time, so I can drop you off at his shop and pick you up on my way back.”

Scott hardly knew what to say. So he settled for a simple but heartfelt “Thank you.”

“Meet me in the office at eleven-thirty,” Seth said gruffly, turning toward the main building. As Scott watched the nursery owner stride away, his throat tightened in gratitude. Reverend Young had been right about Seth. The man might not practice much formal religion, but he lived the Christian values more fully than many churchgoing people Scott had met. Though Scott had been warned to expect the stigma of his prison record to follow him, it had still been a shock to experience reactions ranging from caution to distrust to aversion when people found out he was an ex-con. Even people at church. Some had been wonderful, of course, accepting him fully and welcoming him into their midst. But in the eyes of others he'd seen judgment and condemnation, as if his mistakes had tainted him forever. Those were rough moments. Discouraging moments. But thank God there were good people, too. Like Seth. And Reverend Young. People who believed in him and were willing to give him a chance.

Now, if only he could convince Jess to do the same.

 

The doorbell interrupted Scott's perusal of the real estate listings, and he set the paper aside with a discouraged sigh. Finding a reasonably priced apartment was proving difficult—especially since he'd promised
Karen he would upgrade his previous lodgings. But he'd have his car tomorrow, and then he could check out a few places in person—which should expedite things, he thought as he walked toward the door.

Fortunately, after seeing the long hours he worked and the time it took to travel by bus, Jess had told him that she didn't mind if it took him a few days to find a place to stay. He didn't intend to take advantage of her generosity, of course—but neither did he plan to rush. This time with her was a blessing, and he didn't want the opportunity to see her on a daily basis to end any sooner than necessary. It was too close to heaven, he thought, his lips curving into a smile.

The smile was still on his face when he opened the door a moment later, but it froze when he came face-to-face with Jess's parents. Their own smiles quickly gave way to shock, and from there her father's expression degenerated to hostility.

“What are you doing here?” Frank asked curtly, his face growing ruddy.

Scott's stomach twisted into a knot. “Hello, Frank. Clare. There was a fire at my flat, and Jess offered me her guest room until I found a new apartment.”

“Where is she?”

“On her way home, I suspect. She should be here any minute. Would you like to come in and wait?”

“No, we would not.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes. You can leave Jess alone!” Frank said furiously.

Scott felt a hot flush creep up his neck, and he strug
gled to maintain a cordial tone when he spoke. “I think that's between me and Jess.”

Frank's face grew redder. “Really? Well, I don't. Not after what you did to her. Not after you left her mother and me to pick up the pieces. Good God, man, don't you think you've done enough damage? Do you have any idea how long it took her to get back on her feet after the accident? To be able to make it through a day without shaking so badly that she had to take medication? Do you know how many months she spent in counseling? And now you waltz back into her life and turn it upside down all over again! Don't think her mother and I haven't noticed the changes in her since you came back, either. Or that we haven't spent sleepless nights worrying that she'll end up on the verge of a nervous breakdown again. If you cared for her at all, you'd leave her alone. You'd walk out of her life and never come back.”

By the time Frank finished his furious tirade, Scott felt almost physically sick. He had known just by looking at her that the past few years had taken an immense toll on Jess. But apparently the trauma had been even worse than he'd imagined. He'd had no idea she'd come that close to a nervous breakdown. Was Frank right? he wondered. Had his return caused more harm than good? Would Jess be better off without him?

With a weary sigh Scott raked his fingers through his hair and gazed at Jess's parents. “The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt Jess again,” he said with quiet sincerity, his eyes troubled. “I love her. I always have and I always will. I realize I've made
some bad mistakes. And I spent three long, lonely years in prison thinking about them. But the one thing that wasn't a mistake was marrying Jess. She's always been the best part of my life. It may have taken a tragedy for me to realize that, but now that I have, I want to spend the rest of
my
life filling
hers
with joy. I just don't see how that could be bad for her. Or for us.”

There was silence for a moment while the two men stared at each other. Then Frank turned away. “Come on, Clare. Let's get out of here,” he said coldly.

Scott transferred his gaze to Jess's mother, whose eyes were far less hostile than her husband's. She looked at him for a long moment, then held out a foil-covered dish. “I was going to drop this off for Jess,” she said softly. “She likes my pot roast, and we had extra. There's enough for two.”

Gratitude filled Scott's eyes as he reached for the container. “Thank you.”

She nodded, then turned and joined her husband, who had moved a few feet away. He took her arm stiffly, and without a backward glance they walked away.

Slowly Scott closed the door and tiredly made his way to the kitchen, feeling suddenly drained. He slipped the casserole dish into the oven, then sank into one of the kitchen chairs and let his head drop into his hands. For the first time since his release he was actually tempted to have a beer. Working outdoors in the heat and humidity of the St. Louis summer had taken its toll physically, and the encounter with Jess's parents had taken its toll mentally. Yeah, a beer would
taste good about now, he thought. Except he didn't drink anymore. Not even beer. He'd had enough trouble with alcohol to last ten lifetimes.

The phone rang, and Scott automatically reached for it. “Hello.”

There was silence for a moment, and Scott frowned. He wasn't in the mood for games. Or for recorded phone solicitations, he thought irritably. He was just about to hang up when a voice on the other end spoke.

“Scott?”

Scott's irritation changed to puzzlement. No one knew he was here, except Seth and Karen. And this voice belonged to neither. “Yes?” he replied cautiously.

“I thought it was you. Sorry. It just took me by surprise. This is Mark.”

Scott closed his eyes and groaned silently. Great. Just what he needed. A browbeating by yet another member of Jess's family. “Hello, Mark,” he said coolly.

“So Jess finally took my advice, I see.”

Scott's frown reappeared. “What are you talking about?”

Mark chuckled. “I can see she didn't give her brother credit for his brilliant counsel. By the way, welcome back.”

At Mark's friendly tone, the tension in Scott's shoulders eased. As did his frown. “Thanks. What advice?”

“When she told me you were out and trying to talk to her, I told her to listen. She's kept everything bottled up inside for too long. And while
she
may think
she's dealt with her issues and moved on,
I
know better. You guys had a good thing going for a long time. Frankly, I think you still do. The trick is convincing her.”