“What does she mean, Dad?” Nick asked, staring after his mother, an unpleasant frown on his face.
“It’s nothing,” Michael said.
Nick stepped closer. “Yeah--that’s why she was upset. Try again.”
Michael took a deep breath and looked out the window. “Well, Kelsey and I are getting married, and I—”
“Thought Mom would just say all the right things to us,” Michelle finished for him, shaking her head. “Well, she doesn’t have to, Dad. I don’t like Kelsey. I’ve never liked Kelsey, and that’s that.” She turned and headed back to her bedroom.
“That makes two of us,” Nick said before his father could say anything. “I know you left Mom for her, and Kelsey is nothing like Mom, so I guess the two of you deserve each other. Just leave the rest of us out of your demented happily ever after. I think you can see yourself out.”
He also walked away and spotted Michelle standing at their mother’s closed door, where she lightly knocked. “Mom? You okay?”
“I’ll be out in a little while, Michelle,” Nicole said, her voice muted by the door. But even that couldn’t hide the way the tears had thickened her voice.
Michelle frowned and started to say something, but her brother caught her arm. “I know you want to help, but right now she probably needs space.”
“Dad is such a jerk,” she seethed and whirled to go to her own room, leaving Nick standing there, shaking his head.
“Yeah, he is,” Nick finally agreed.
* * *
As much as Nicole wanted to say she hadn’t been hurt by Michael’s news, she knew better. In all the years since she and Michael had split, she had gotten used to the hole in her heart her ex-husband had left. He made no sense to her, and she’d finally realized the best she could hope for from him was a long and wonderful life with his two children. Michelle and Nick were the best parts of both of them, anyhow.
She’d waited until Michelle and Nick had gone on various errands before she finally slipped out of her bedroom. Walking into the kitchen, she marveled at how normal things seemed, not fractured the way Michael had left them.
The bastard.
Unable to stay in the same room which had not only been the place Michael had finally admitted his affair but also the place where he’d finally told her he was getting remarried, Nicole headed into the living room, where she walked around like a stranger in her own house. She touched the framed pictures on the fireplace mantel and scanned the bookshelves as though she really didn’t know what was there, and it was only when she ran across the few scrapbooks she kept that Nicole knew she ought to turn a blind eye to the past. Nothing good lay there except the life she had led with her children. Still, the scrapbooks had the same allure as Pandora’s box had, and they would probably have the same effect if she weren't careful.
She was beyond careful these days, she realized as she picked up the middle scrapbook. Wrong move, she realized, as she flipped it open and saw a large photo taken at her wedding. The breath caught in her throat, and no matter how hard she tried to look away, she found her eyes drawn to Michael’s face. He wasn’t looking at the camera. No, he was peering at the Nicole who had ceased to exist beyond these pictures--the smiling, happy Nicole who'd believed that love always worked out and that there was nothing else worth fighting for, the Nicole who'd learned firsthand that sometimes love was a casualty of life no matter how hard you tried to keep it alive, and that there was always one person who loved the other more. She had been that person, and she had paid dearly for it.
A sad smile crept across her face as she wished she had known how to keep that Michael with her, the one who'd promised he would never hurt her. How could he have slipped so far away? Tears burned her eyes, and she closed the album. It took three tries to get it back into its spot because her vision was so blurred. A sob cut through her, and she knew better than to keep playing this game, but something wouldn’t let her cut her losses and quit.
She reached for a different scrapbook, determined to find memories that wouldn’t sting so badly. Her trembling hands flipped open the book, and she came face-to-face with another, different blast from the past, no less breathtaking but for very different reasons. She saw a small picture that had been taken of Jordan and at the end of the PE trip when they’d met. The instructor had taken different shots of students. Jordan had been sitting cross-legged on the bridge, in the exact same spot where she’d been right before she’d fallen off and she was right beside him.
Once again, she found herself asking why things hadn’t worked out between the two of them. If things had even been slightly fair, they would've because he would never have broken her heart like this. Never. Somehow she knew that much. Staring into his dark eyes and at his inviting smile, she found herself lost and broken.
A wave of pain rushed over her, and she started crying. It wasn’t just about Jordan or Michael. It was about all the things Nicole had believed in which had crumbled into a million pieces and now lay at her feet. It was about losing her father and about her kids growing up and about all the fears she could never contain or shake. She’d never felt so alone and so diminished in her entire life.
Sobs ripped through her, and she couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t even move, and the only thing she could see was Jordan. Tears rolled down her face and spattered the slick sheet protecting her memories, and they just kept coming in wave after wave of pain and emptiness. The only sound she could hear was her heartbeat thumping throughout her body.
In that instant, she wasn’t expecting to feel arms around her, and she started to pull away until she realized it was Nick. He’d come back, and he held her tightly to let her spend her grief. Nick, the son of Michael—a man who afforded her no compassion and no regrets, a man who had loved her easily and then, just as easily stopped.
But Nick was nothing like him. She knew that much as he held her until she'd stopped crying. He frowned, and his expression was troubled. “You okay, Mom?” He eased down in the chair next to her.
Brushing her hand across her face, she nodded. “Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
“Dad’s a jerk. I know it, Michelle knows it, and you know it, and it doesn’t matter if he marries that bimbo. She’s never going to be you.”
Swallowing hard, she offered a wan smile. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” As he stood, he glanced at the scrapbook she’d been looking at.
“Hey, who is that?” he asked.
“No one,” she whispered. “Just a friend from long ago.”
“Oh.” He shrugged and walked away.
Nicole took one last look at Jordan’s picture and closed the album, sealing the past in place once again.
Chapter Twenty
Nick waited in his room until he heard Michelle run upstairs to her room and turn on some music. Sitting on his bed, he’d been staring at the walls, wishing he could knock some sense into his old man. Although he and Michael didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, he tried not to fight with his dad, but this--this was stupid.
His dad was actually going to marry that woman, the same one who'd been the reason his dad had left his mom in the first place. And his dad actually wanted them to like her? Seriously? And what the hell was the deal with the picture on the canvas and in the scrapbook? That photo had to mean something to his mother for her to have duplicated it and been trying to paint it, as well. There were so many pieces that didn’t fit, and even if Nick had been good at understanding females, he wasn’t sure even he would be able to put the pieces together on this one. Whatever was going on, he needed to do something, so he did the only thing he knew—he barged into his sister’s room.
Michelle was sitting on her bed with the phone pressed to her ear when he opened the door. She glared at him and said, “Ever heard of knocking?” Then she gestured for him to leave.
“We need to talk,” he said and sat in her rolling chair, his arms folded across his chest.
“Look, Jenny, my bro
ther has invaded my room. I’ll have to call you back.” She shook her head and snapped the phone shut. “Now what?” She looked at her brother’s tee-shirt, at the sweat stains around his neck and under his arms, and she squinched up her nose. “You’ve been sweating. Did you even think to take a shower?”
“Damn it, Michelle, this is important!” Nick growled. “I just got back from my workout and when I came in, Mom was crying, and she had her scrapbook open to a picture of this her with this guy I’ve never even seen. If that’s not enough, she’s got that same picture taped to a canvas on her easel. She’s been trying to paint it. What the hell is going on?”
“Dad’s probably made her feel crappy, and the picture is of a guy named Jordan,” Michelle said quietly. “Aunt Sarah told me about him.” And then she went on to tell him the rest of the story. All the while, Nick sat there, propping his elbows on his knees so he could rest his chin in his hands, a distant look in his eyes.
When she'd finished, she shook her head. “I wish we knew where to find this guy. I mean, it’s been years since they knew each other, and even though Mom never quite got over him, she was great to Dad. And then he dumped her.”
Nick stood and stretched. “Well, what the hell would we do if we could find him? I mean, he might be married with a family by now.”
Michelle looked at up at him. “But he might not.”
“True,” her brother agreed. He still had a faraway look in his eyes. “So what now?”
Thinking for a moment, Michelle asked, “How about I call Aunt Sarah and you get mom out of the house so we can hatch a plan?”
“Where do you want me to take her, Michelle?” He stared at her in utter disbelief.
“How about the movies? Say it’s an early birthday present. She’ll never know.”
“All right.” He headed for the door. “I guess I’d better get a shower.”
Laughing, Michelle nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’d say you stink, all right.”
“Thanks.” He went out the door, and Michelle threw a pillow at it.
* * *
“Your mother would kill me if she knew I was even considering this with you,” Sarah said, sitting on the couch. “Yes, she is still crazy about Jordan, but she doesn’t even want to try because I think she’s afraid of being rejected.”
“It can’t hurt,” Michelle argued, pacing the room with her arms folded across her abdomen. “I just want to know how to find him.”
“Well, if you can get your mom’s phone, I think she’s still got his number.”
“Genius!” Michelle said and began looking around. Sure enough, Nicole had been so flattered and in a rush to go to the movies she’d actually left her handbag sitting on the dining room table. Michelle grabbed the phone from inside and headed back to the living room.
“Throw it here,” Sarah said, holding her hands open to catch it. Michelle tossed it, and Sarah flipped through the numbers and held it up for Michelle to see. “Bingo. We have a winner.”
Squealing, Michelle grabbed the phone and said, “Here goes.” She pushed the button as Sarah stood.
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
“Fixing things,” Michelle said, and gestured for Sarah to sit.
* * *
“Nothing like a hotel room,” Jordan muttered, “a nice, expensive hotel room in France, and I’m staring at the walls.” He shook his head and looked around the room, starting with the muted television that ran an old I Love Lucy episode--badly dubbed, of course. His gaze ended with a watercolor painting of a woman who reminded him of Nicole. He’d wrapped up his business, and tomorrow he’d fly stateside. This painting would be a welcome memento from his trip abroad, especially since he’d given up on the real thing.
He’d seen the painting earlier that day, and it had cost him 1000 euro, not that he'd minded parting with it. It was a beautiful image of a woman on the beach, her long, dark hair swept over one shoulder.
Shaking his head, he knew he should have been over Nicole long ago. Funny how the human heart had its own timeline and intentions. He'd started to guess he would never get over Nicole, and he really didn’t mind. It helped to have something consistent in his life.
He started over to the painting to look at it in greater detail when his cell rang. Puzzled, he shook his head, not sure what to say. Who would be calling him here? His mother, perhaps?
He picked up the phone and found Nicole’s name on the display. A smile tugged at his lips. He quickly pushed the answer key and said, “Well, speak of the devil. I was just thinking of you and wondering how you were.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “How about you?”
“Well, I’m in France, and it’s beautiful.” Yet when he said the word beautiful, his gaze didn’t look out the window but at the portrait instead.
“Wow. Is your family with you?”
What a strange question, Jordan thought. “My family? Nicole, I live alone. I haven’t remarried. I thought you knew that.”
There was a pause at the other end. Then, finally, she said, “Oh, my.”
“Are you all right?” Jordan paced the room, suddenly feeling as though something he couldn’t quite put his finger on wasn’t right.
“I’m fine.”
“How’s Michael?” He didn’t know what else to say.
“He’s an ass who's about to get remarried.”
“What?” Jordan stopped pacing. “I didn’t even know you were divorced.”
Another strange pause. “Yeah, I guess I should have told you. So, when are you flying back?”
He paused for a moment and looked at the display. In all the conversations he’d had with Nicole, this was by far the strangest.
“Tomorrow.”
“There’s something I want to ask you.” Her tone suddenly seemed nervous, and another nervous flag went up.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m…fine. I just wanted to meet with you so we could talk. It’s kind of important.”
The pacing resumed, and he looked at his watch, as doing so would get him home more quickly. “Nicole, this doesn’t sound like you. I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. Just meet me. Please?”
“All right. I can be there in two days, and I can meet you at the Denny’s by the church where you had your dad’s funeral. Would two o’clock be okay?”
“I’ll be there.”
They both said goodbye and hung up, yet even as the phone went silent in Jordan’s hand, he still kept hearing her voice, but this time, he was worried. Perhaps the divorce had cut too deeply and she needed a friend. He didn’t know. He just knew that, no matter what, he had to be there for her.
* * *
“Oh my God!” Sarah squealed. “You did not just do that.”
Michelle nodded and said, “Oh, yes, I did--and I’m going to do you one better: Nick is going to meet him at Denny’s and tell him what’s going on. You and I are going to take her camping at the park with that bridge where the two of them first met, and Nick will bring him later. I can tell he has the hots for Mom. He’s never remarried, and he still thought she was married, which is why he never asked her out after she divorced Daddy.”
Michelle started doing this weird happy dance, and in that moment, Sarah got up and followed her lead, both of them laughing uncontrollably. They were so lost in laughter they didn’t hear Nicole and Nick enter.
Nicole walked up and asked, “Okay, what are you two on, and where can I get some?”
While she'd expected one or both of them to answer, all she got was more giggles as her daughter threw her arms around Nicole and forced her to join in their dance.
“Okay, this is one of those weird female things.” Nick stood there and shook his head. “I draw the line here.” Then he walked off and headed to his room.
A few moments later, the three of them stopped giggling and fell to the sofa. Nicole glanced at the ceiling and thought of her son. “Should we let Nick know it’s safe to come back down?
That the estrogen has cleared the room?”
“Nah. He likes to brood alone, Mom,” Michelle said, twining her arm around her mother’s. “So how was the movie?”
“It was good, but I still think he took me because you’re planning something.” Nicole leveled an accusatory glance at her daughter.
“Me? Planning something?” Not likely. I never plan anything.”
Nicole leaned against her daughter. “Yeah, right. That’ll be the day. Let’s just hope it’s not a grounding offense.”
Sarah and Michelle looked at each other and burst out laughing again.
* * *
Two days later, Jordan sat in the parking lot at Denny’s, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing there. Yeah, he was meeting Nicole, but there was something strange about this. Nicole hadn’t sounded like Nicole, not by a long shot.
He glanced down at the clock and realized he had about ten minutes before he was actually supposed to be at the restaurant. He debated whether he should go in early and how it would look. Of course, why the hell should it matter after all these years? He didn’t have a clue, but it did.
Before he pulled the keys from the ignition, he ducked his head slightly and peered into the rear-view mirror, checking to make sure he was presentable. The longer he stared, the more he fixated on the tiny wrinkles around his eyes. When had he gotten those? Never mind. He hadn’t worried about them before. There was no point in suddenly thinking about his age. One last glance, and he finally decided to get out of the Jeep and amble toward the entrance.
Although there was still a small crowd left over from lunch, there were plenty of empty tables, so he was seated without waiting. He scanned the room, wondering if Nicole had arrived before him, but he certainly didn’t see anyone who looked like her, and he figured she probably hadn’t changed so much he wouldn’t recognize her. Realizing she wasn’t there yet, he turned his focus to the menu.
As he opened it, he pondered why she’d wanted to meet him. Could it be just a matter of her wanting to get together for old times' sake? He shook his head. No, he hadn't gotten that impression when he'd been on the phone with her--not that he knew what to do with the impression he did get when they'd last spoken.
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