The Irresistible Mr Cooper
Page 16
17.
Mitch was exhausted. As he walked out of the plant, stripping off his gloves, he had to remind himself to straighten his shoulders. There was a hollow of pain right at the top of his spine that wouldn’t quit. He thought of Jenessa rubbing her hands across his back, burying her thumbs into that sore space and kneading his flesh. Just thinking about it made him want to see her badly. He felt brief resentment at having to work late so often these days. He wished for more reasons than one that all this crap wasn’t going on at Bianchi’s. It was taking up too much of his time, time he could be spending with her.
In the past week or so, while repairs were being done to his duplex, he’d left work every evening and driven to Jenessa’s house, where she and Ruby would be waiting for him. Occasionally, he brought food, but Jenessa was so proud of her culinary skills, and so determined to prove she could cook the healthy food he preferred, she usually had a meal ready. They’d sit together and eat, maybe watch a DVD or play a game, until it was time for Ruby to go to her room. Then he and Jenessa would be alone.
He didn’t feel comfortable making love to her while Ruby was awake upstairs reading or finishing up her homework, but their time together was no less special. Sometimes they’d stand close to each other and look out her huge bay windows into the night. Other times they danced, whether there was music playing on not. They kissed, they talked. It was like having a family again. Except that, every evening, before it got too late, he reluctantly put on his coat and went back to his hotel.
Halfway to his car, Mitch heard the crunch of boots on snow. Immediately, he was on guard. Tempers had been running high recently and most days a few scuffles broke out on the picket line. Not everyone was happy with him putting in extra hours; some saw it as diminishing the impact of the strike. As much as he hated to think about it, it wouldn’t be surprising if a couple of guys were waiting outside to teach him a lesson on the finer points of industrial relations.
“Hey, dog.”
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he turned. “Omari.”
The heavy-set, older electrician had on so many layers of clothes, he was almost round. His big hands were shoved into his pockets, and a thin crust of ice on his woolen hat looked as though the snow had melted and frozen again in a network of spiderwebs. He was standing in the parking lot of the plant, and since Mitch knew Omari spent his days up at Head Office in the picket line, he assumed he was waiting for him.
He didn’t bother to disguise his pleasure. Relations had been strained between them, although when they met to discuss the labor situation, Omari was reserved but willing to listen to Mitch’s suggestions. He was sure the older man wasn’t any closer to approving of Mitch’s relationship with Jenessa, but at least he was respectful enough not to raise it.
He held out his hand. “Hey, man.”
Omari shook it. “Working late again,” he commented. It wasn’t a condemnation.
He nodded. “How’re things going on the picket line?”
“Cold.” Omari shrugged and laughed lightly. “Least there’s lots of coffee to go ‘round.” Then he looked somber. “Heard anything?”
“Bianchi’s is trying another tactic. They’re offering to increase the severance pay by 50%. Some people are taking it.”
Omari winced. He was a man who believed in loyalty, and Mitch knew watching some of the strikers tuck their tails between their legs and take what was being offered would hurt him. But the economy was tough, and the extra money was tempting. Eventually, there’d just be a few diehards left.
“People do what they have to,” Mitch said philosophically.
“I guess,” Omari said, and looked away. He pondered the snow on his boots awhile. “They’ll kill us,” he said to his feet. “People like me, we’re not gonna have anything left. I’m only a few years away from retirement. I’m too old to get another job, and what they’re offering . . . it won’t be enough.”
“You’re not that old,” Mitch reminded him, even though he knew that in this economy, job hunting was a young man’s game.
Omari looked so much like a big, sad bear that Mitch was moved to share some information with him that wasn’t general knowledge yet. “The union’s flying in this guy from Washington,” he told him. “Fellow called Lewison. He’s gonna be lead negotiator.”
Omari’s sharp, black eyes were riveted on his face. “And?”
“He’s a master of the surprise attack. That’s his thing. He knows how to work the system; statutes, conventions . . . he can back an opponent into a corner and have them against the ropes so fast, they don’t even know what hit them. But keep it under your hat. It’s better if they don’t see it coming.”
Omari’s jowls waggled. “‘Course, man.”
The two talked awhile about moves and counter moves. When both men were clear on what was to happen next, they looked to leave.
“How’re things going with your home repairs?” Omari asked as he walked Mitch to his car.
Mitch shrugged. “Not as fast as I’d want, but then again, I’m not there as much I’d like. I have to rely on my neighbor, Hugh, to look in on the workers for me.”
“Too busy up here, huh?”
“I guess.” At his car, he hesitated. Sometimes, on evenings, he and Omari used to meet up for a beer, but that hadn’t happened since this whole labor thing—and their argument over Jenessa—had gone down. It made him sad, but he understood.
“If you ever get tired of hotel food,” Omari said with strained joviality. “Gimme a shout.”
Mitch clapped him on the back. “I will, man. Thanks.” He clicked open his car door, but Omari didn’t back away. Instead, he shifted from foot to heavy foot, brows like craggy cliffs obscuring his eyes.
“Mitch . . . I want you to know . . . whatever happens. . . . ” He opened and closed his mouth like he didn’t know how to finish what he’d started.
Mitch felt an uneasy prickle run up his spine. “What . . . ?”
Omari shook his head. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” He bared his teeth in a semblance of a grin.
Concerned, Mitch put his hand out to grasp his friend’s shoulder, but Omari was already walking away.
“Nothing,” Omari said over his shoulder. “Just bumping my gums, that’s all.”
Mitch stared after him, his unease growing rather than subsiding. Omari was depressed, sure, but he wasn’t going to do something dumb, was he? He waited until Omari left the lot before he got into his car. He realized he was covered in goosebumps.
“Jen’s not here?”
Ruby shook her head gravely as she stepped aside to let Mitch in. Jenessa had given her a set of keys and she had strict instructions to come straight back after school by taxi, and to lock herself in. It wasn’t likely that Coral would be able to track her down, but they weren’t taking any chances. “She called to say we should go ahead and eat. Said she’d be late.”
He cast a slightly worried look at the sky. The weather had been threatening to turn ugly all evening, and heavy clouds blotted out the stars. It was a night to be indoors, warm and safe. Jenessa’s SUV hadn’t been parked up at Head Office when he’d swung by. So where was she?
“You should call her,” Ruby suggested.
He was thinking the same thing, but wasn’t ready to do that yet. “I don’t think so.”
“Why?” she challenged with the forthrightness of youth. “You like her, don’t you?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
“So why can’t you—”
He put an arm around Ruby’s shoulders as they walked into the kitchen. “Because women like Jenessa might not see it as a gesture of thoughtfulness. They might see it as an attempt to control their movements.” He began setting the table, laying a place for Jenessa all the same.
Ruby wasn’t buying it. She grunted. “Oh, you’re clueless, Uncle.”
He folded the deep red linen napkins into triangles and rested them carefully next to each plate as he asked, “Clueless about what?”
>
“First of all, there ain’t no women—”
“There aren’t any,” he corrected without thinking.
“Thank you, Grammar Police.” She blew him an impudent kiss. “There aren’t any women like Jenessa. She’s unique.”
“Mm, she is,” he agreed.
“Second, you so busy thinking you know what she wants or don’t want. . . . ”
The Grammar Police decided to let that one slide.
“You can’t even see what she really wants.”
He began to ladle out the beef and barley stew Ruby had heated up, wondering if he ought to ask. He did anyway. “And what does she really want?”
She pointed her spoon at him. Glossy red-brown stew clung to it. “You,” she said simply.
He tried to stop himself from smiling. As much as he and Jenessa had found their way to a tender place where they were willing to see where their affair would take them, neither had made any declarations. There were no commitments. Part of the reason was that he’d been alone so long the urge to go too fast was getting the better of him and he had to make a conscious effort to slow down. He knew instinctively Jenessa wouldn’t respond well to being rushed. And never mind what Ruby said; he was sure if he pushed too hard, he’d lose her.
Ruby’s eyes were on him. Something about her reminded him so much of her mother as a young girl. The similarity took him by surprise; it made him ache. Ruby was growing up; she wasn’t the frightened child he’d taken in to protect from Coral. She was beginning to have adult thoughts, and form adult opinions.
“I don’t know about that,” he hedged.
Ruby slouched in her seat and groaned. “Aw, man. If you don’t believe me, fine. If you think I’m too young to know what I’m talking about, fine. But don’t go and mess this up, ‘kay?”
“I promise I won’t.” He hoped fervently that was one promise he could keep.
You couldn’t hold Ruby down for long. “So, you gonna call her or not?”
The question became moot as keys jangled at the front door and Jenessa walked in. He hopped up to meet her halfway. “Hey.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. Her mouth was cold. He touched her cheek; it was colder.
“Hey,” she responded. She put the briefcase down slowly and let him help her out of her coat. Her eyes didn’t meet his.
A cold current rippled through his warm pleasure. He hung her coat on the rack and asked, “You okay?”
She took her time thinking. Then she nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Where were you? Your car wasn’t at the office. Did you have an off-site meeting?” He knew he sounded exactly the way he didn’t want to: overprotective and controlling, but in his anxiety, he didn’t care.
She frowned as if trying to remember where she’d been. “No, no meeting. I went for a walk.”
“You went for a walk?” he repeated stupidly.
“In De Menzes Park. By the lake.” The large, man-made lake at the center of De Menzes Park was surrounded by a jogging track and sprinkled with picnic tables and benches. In warm weather, people sat out and chatted, bird-watched and played hacky-sack. In cold weather, it was a gray and dismal place.
“You were in the park, Jen? It’s close to freezing. What were you doing?”
“Feeding the ducks.”
Mitch tried not to react. He escorted her to the table, pulled out a chair, and served some stew, all the while wanting to pepper her with questions. He held his tongue, but was deeply troubled.
Dinner was silent and uncomfortable. He could tell Ruby was worried by this reserved, introspective Jenessa she hadn’t met before. He knew, too, she was wondering why he didn’t say anything about it. The youngster kept looking from one to the other, searching for pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t solve. In frustration, she pushed away her half-eaten dinner and excused herself.
Jenessa barely touched hers, either. She sat with hands on each side of her bowl, staring down into it, looking like she was counting the grains of barley.
“Jen?”
The eyes she lifted to his were a stranger’s. Even at her most frosty, even when she was mad at him, she was never like this.
“What the hell’s going on?”
She shook her head slowly. “Nothing. I’ve just had a bad day.”
“Things tough at the office?”
She sighed as if her heart hurt. “You could say that. Tensions running high, you know.”
That made him feel better. It was only work; nothing more serious. She was poking at cubes of beef with her spoon so he reached out, took it from her, and set it down. Then he wrapped his hand around hers. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”
“Talk to me.”
“What about?”
“Anything. What’s going on down at the rehab center?”
“We’re doing okay. We got a pledge for a half dozen bunk beds today, and most of the electrical work’s almost done. How’re you doing with that sponsorship proposal for Sharona?”
Her face blanched, and she blinked several times, like she was sending him a message in Morse code. “Sharona, oh. . . . ” She stuttered, “The . . . the proposal’s all done. Merlin’s dropping it off at her office tomorrow.”
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Thank you. This mean a lot to me. There’s not much I can do for my sister right now; she’s got to find her own way. But there are so many other women I can help.”
She swallowed hard. “Just so you know; I’m not doing this because of Bianchi’s. I’m helping because it’s the right thing to do. And because you believe in it.”
“Then thanks for believing in me.” He paused and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I can’t be there more. I’ve been so tied up with this mess at work.” He added an encouraging thought. “It won’t last much longer, though, if the union’s able to swing it.”
She blinked again. “Swing what?”
He repeated the news he’d passed on to Omari, filling her in on what was happening at the negotiating table, and how they saw things playing out when this hard case, Lewison, took over. She listened, brows drawn, focusing on his mouth, as if she was lip-reading. As if he was speaking a language that had been familiar in childhood, but which she now only vaguely remembered. She asked the occasional question, but his answers seemed to float by her.
He gave up in exasperation. “Okay, Jenessa, what is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You walk in like a zombie, choke down an ounce of stew, and now you’re sitting here like some part of you got up and drifted away. What’s happening?”
He was on his feet, looking down into her ashen face. Her honey-colored eyes were dark and confused. Scared, even. But of what?
He pressed. “Did I do something? Say something wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Are you sick? Hurt?”
“No,” she croaked.
“Were you . . .” It was an ugly thought, but he voiced it. “Were you meeting someone in De Menzes Park? A man?”
“No, Mitchell, nothing like that.”
He knew his temper was slipping, felt his control skittering from his grasp. “Whatever it is, for God’s sake, talk. If there’s something you want to say to me, spit it out.”
Her face worked. She looked like a little girl who’d made Daddy mad and didn’t know how to fix things, making him feel like the world’s biggest jerk. At once he was on his knees before her, grasping her hands, turning them palm outward and kissing them. “I’m sorry. It’s just you’re acting so weird. I wish I could figure out. . . .”
Jenessa was trying to speak. “I think. . . . ” She stopped.
He realized she was shivering, so he rubbed her upper arms as if she’d just come in from the cold. Her skin felt bloodless.
She tried again. Her voice was barely audible, taut and alien. “I think I’m in love with you,” she choked out. Then fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.
18.
Through a blur of tears, Jenessa looked
down at Mitchell, who was still kneeling before her. He was stock-still, his hands halfway up her arms, frozen in the act of warming her up.
She was horrified at having spoken her mind, but glad that of all the confessions she could be making to him right now, this one was the least likely to bring disgust and rejection. If she’d only given voice to the thoughts tumbling through her head since she’d tangled with Sharona in the parking lot, that gentle smile certainly wouldn’t be playing about his lips.
She realized Mitchell was softly calling her name. “What?” She tried to focus on him.
He laughed. “I was calling you back from wherever you’d gone to. You don’t drop a bombshell like that and wander off to some distant planet.”
“Have I . . . was I?”
“You’ve been staring off into space awhile now, honey. Nothing in your eyes but tears.”
“Oh.” She brushed the wetness away with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I must’ve looked like a fool.”
He shook his head. “You worried me, that’s all.”
Now that she’d made her revelation, dropped her bombshell, as he put it, she felt awkward and shy. “Maybe I was trying to run away from my big fat mouth.”
“Only if what you said wasn’t true.” The corners of his lips were still curved upward, but the smile was a little strained. He was waiting on confirmation or refutation.
She hung her head, unwilling to look at him. “It’s . . . true.”
“Thank you.” He sounded almost reverent. But curiosity soon took over. “What is it about being . . . in love with me . . . that makes you cry? Is it such a bad thing?” The question was a mixture of puzzlement, awe and . . . hurt.
She hastened to chase the hurt away. “It’s not that . . . it’s not what you think.” She stopped. How could she explain herself? As much as they’d found a common ground of acceptance, mutual desire and affection, there was nothing she could do to erase the kernel of doubt in his heart, the feeling that deep down she’d never completely forget the gap between them. Mitchell would always believe she thought she was too good for him.