by Taylor Dean
“Fine.” Jill reined in her emotions and reminded herself to keep it light. This is all just one big joke.
Luke helped her out and slammed the car door. “I know what that one means too.”
“What what means?”
“When a woman says ‘fine’ to a man.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means the argument is over and the man is a complete idiot.”
“That’s pretty accurate.”
Luke tossed his head back and laughed, a glimpse of the man she loved. Jill turned her head away quickly.
I love this man.
She noticed the back of the truck was piled with supplies. “I see this kidnapping was premeditated. That won’t look good at your trial.” She cast him a sarcastic grin.
“As of this mornin’ it was. Planned and executed in two hours flat. Successfully. Not too shabby, eh? That premeditated enough for ya?”
“Enough for a solid conviction. I wouldn’t go patting yourself on the back just yet. How you gonna keep me here, Luke?” she challenged. “I’m not scared of walking twenty miles.”
His eyes bored into hers. He held up his hand, the one that was attached to hers with the handcuffs. Her hand hung limply, making him bear the weight.
She swallowed. Surely he wasn’t serious. He wouldn’t leave her in handcuffs overnight. Would he? Or worse yet, handcuffed to him all night? She wouldn’t sleep a wink.
“C’mon, let’s go see the horrors my mother has waiting for us.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Jill offered, ignoring the squeeze of her heart. My honeymoon with Luke.
Luke threw the door open and they both stood in the entryway, silent and openmouthed, for at least two minutes. The first thing she couldn’t help but notice was the huge banner declaring, “Just Married. Lucas and Jillian.”
Oh boy. It was that bad.
“Well, dang,” Luke mumbled.
While Jill recognized that the house was overly, but tastefully decorated, her eyes were drawn to the trappings of a romantic rendezvous. Fake red rose petals made a beeline path to what she assumed was the bedroom. Jill knew they had to be fake because they still appeared fresh and new. Candles were everywhere, all battery operated because Luke’s mom hated a real flame. She said they were a fire danger and made the room “smoky.” The dining table was set for two, champagne glasses emblazoned with “bride” and “groom” sat at each place setting.
More candles. More rose petals.
The place oozed romance. Jill wished Luke was about to take her in his arms, carry her inside, and follow the rose petals to the bed and . . .
Stop it, Jill. Just stop it.
The coat rack to their left boasted two baseball caps; one that said “bride” and one that said “groom.”
Hanging overtly on the frame of the bedroom doorway were plush white robes also embroidered with “bride” and “groom.” Beneath them sat flip-flops announcing . . . you guessed it, “bride” and “groom.”
Luke’s mom went all out on everything she did. Jill had attended Luke’s most recent birthday celebration at his mom’s house. Besides the balloons imprinted with “Happy Birthday, Luke,” there were streamers, party tablecloths, matching birthday plates, cups, and napkins, and several banners screaming “Happy Birthday, Luke.” She’d made Luke wear a badge that said, “Birthday Boy.” She even wore a t-shirt that announced, “Mother of the Birthday Boy.” It was quite the event for an adult son.
Luke hated every moment of it.
To give him credit, he’d behaved amicably and thanked his mother profusely for all she’d done for him.
That was Luke. He had a strong sense for other people’s feelings, often keeping his own needs on the back burner. It was his greatest attribute—and his greatest fault.
Jill would never forget the first time he’d eaten dinner at her mother’s house. She’d made her famous salmon loaf. When Luke had finished his first slice, her mother had insisted he have another, even though he’d objected, saying he was full. Politely he’d accepted the second slice and cleared every crumb from his plate. On the ride home, he pulled over rather suddenly, surprising her. He stepped outside the car and was miserably sick.
When he climbed back into the car, she handed him a bottled water. He swished and rinsed out his mouth.
“You okay?” she’d asked.
“Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“Not usually on a date. Hopefully never on a date,” he said, backhanding his mouth.
“Good thing I’m already in love with you or this would’ve been a deal breaker.”
Luke shook his head and laughed lightly. “I’m guessing a goodnight kiss is out of the question now.”
“If you’re coming down with something, then I’m sure you don’t feel like kissing right about now anyway.”
“I’m not coming down with anything. I just really, really hate seafood. Even the smell makes me physically sick.”
Jill thought about the two slices of salmon loaf he’d downed at dinner. “Luke, why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want to offend your mother. She’s so proud of her salmon loaf.”
Jill fell in love with him just a little more that night, a little deeper, and a little more defined. She didn’t just love his handsome face, she loved the man on the inside, the man that felt for others. It was a quality she loved.
Such a small thing, yet the incident spoke volumes.
Luke shook her out of her walk down memory lane when he sighed heavily. “It’s worse than I thought.”
Jill swallowed the very idea of tears. She was not going to cry. But this was torture of the worst kind.
In front of the fireplace sat two overstuffed throw pillows, one screamed “bride” and one hollered “groom.”
Gag.
They stepped in and Luke grabbed a handful of M&Ms from the candy bowl on the coffee table. They were personalized with “Luke and Jill.” He offered some to her and when she declined, he shrugged and stuffed them in his mouth. Somehow his actions seemed blasphemous.
Luke made his way to the bedroom and she had no choice but to follow. A throw blanket lay artfully spread across the huge king size bed, beautifully embroidered with their names, “Lucas and Jillian. Just Married.” Underneath was their wedding date.
It was the date that bothered Jill the most. It was post dated with tomorrow’s date. The irony of it all made her want to lie down and cry.
Were they here too early or too late?
Both.
Rose petals covered the bed, evoking images in her mind she’d rather not entertain.
The bathroom boasted matching white towels with “bride” and “groom” on them. Even the brand new toothbrushes were emblazoned with the awful personalization.
“My mom kinda likes personalized stuff,” Luke mumbled under his breath.
“I would’ve never guessed.”
He scoffed. “All right, the worst is over. Let’s get unpacked.”
Jill didn’t agree. The worst had only just begun.
6
Luke and Jill
April 2003
Present Day
Jill followed along as Luke carried in box after box, feeling a little like a dog on a leash.
“Are we staying here for the weekend or the next year?” He had enough supplies to last them through the apocalypse.
“Just wanted you to be comfortable.”
Don’t be nice to me, Luke. All my love for you will come crashing back. It’s already poised and ready to engulf me at a moment’s notice. It’s just waiting for my cue.
Besides, if he wanted her to be comfortable, he’d remove the maddening handcuffs. She had no choice but to keep up as he began to put the food supplies in the cupboards and open windows to air out the place.
Finally, she’d had enough. “I’m not doing this anymore,” she declared. Her wrist ached from the constant tug of w
ar. She laid herself down flat on the floor of the living room, making her position clear. “I’m not moving from this spot. You can’t make me.”
Luke knelt down next to her, taking the pressure off both of their strained arms.
“I’m done,” Jill announced. “Say what you need to say and let this place appear in my rearview mirror.”
“It’s complicated, Jill, not something I can just blurt out.”
“You have to start somewhere.”
“We’re both tired, hungry, and stressed. Right now is not the time.”
“It’s right now or never, Luke. I’m NOT staying the night here with you.”
Luke stared into her eyes, making her feel like squirming. “Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m NOT.” Jill didn’t falter under his gaze, but she wanted to. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry her eyes out, but she kept that emotion in check.
Luke grabbed her right hand and studied the fresh scar on her palm. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. Her breath hitched in her throat. “Your mom called me when you were in the emergency room. She thought it best for me not to come, but I wanted to. I wanted to be there with you.”
“It would’ve made things worse.” Even though Jill had longed for his presence, it would’ve been awkward at best.
Slowly, Luke’s hand reached out and softly caressed her cheek. “I’ve missed you, Jill,” he whispered. “More than you realize.”
His touch paralyzed her, sending shivers down her spine. She’d missed him too, every second of every hour of every day. Not just missed him, pined for him. Her heart had left her chest, living outside of her body, following him wherever he went.
Confusion gripped her. He was the one who had broken their engagement. He was the one who had called off their wedding. “I don’t understand.”
“I know. But you will very soon. I promise.”
Luke normally kept his promises. His abrupt departure from her life still left her puzzled. “A case of cold feet isn’t really something you can easily explain away. If you weren’t sure about us a month ago, you can’t be sure now.” Constant wavering would kill her. She needed him to feel one-hundred percent positive about them as a couple.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Jill.” His hand traveled across her cheek and delved into her hair. “Mmmmmm, everything about you is so soft, your skin, your hair . . .” His thoughts were far from the given subject.
He leaned toward her and Jill was sure he was going to kiss her—and she wanted him to. “I’m an engaged woman,” she told him, even though she didn’t really want him to stop. She needed him to stop.
Her words had the desired effect.
He closed his eyes and backed away. “Do you love him, Jill?”
“We’re engaged.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jill wondered just how much Luke knew. He’d been out of touch with everyone and it was possible his family was keeping bad news from him while he was deployed.
Guess that means they didn’t consider her brand new engagement bad news.
There are many types of love in this world. Yes, she loved Troy, but not in the way he was inferring. She’d always been honest with Luke and she wouldn’t change that fact now. “No.”
Luke nodded. “I didn’t think so.”
No. Luke knew she loved him and him alone. Troy knew she loved Luke too. There was no doubt about that.
“Were you happy with us, Jill? I mean really happy?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “You didn’t know that?”
“I knew. Just checking.”
He was sending weird mixed messages and Jill felt more and more confused by the moment. “Let me go now, please. I don’t wanna play this game anymore. This isn’t funny, Luke. Not at all.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” He continued to stare into her eyes for a moment, as if searching for any sign of softness. His face hardened and he stood. “I haven’t said what I need to say to you yet.”
While her body lay flat on the floor, her arm stood painfully erect. The short-lived tender moment was over. “I will never forgive you for this, Lucas Graham.” Was she talking about this ridiculous kidnapping scheme or their broken engagement? Maybe both.
His jaw tightened. “I know. Don’t expect you to. Now get up.”
“No.”
“Jill, c’mon, quit messing around. Get up.”
She narrowed her eyes, giving him her sternest look. “No.”
“You asked for it,” he said as he wrapped his free arm around her torso and hauled her up, pinning her against his body.
Oh Luke, how did we end up like this?
Jill let her body flop around like a rag doll, making him do all the work. If this was the way he wanted to play it, then she certainly wasn’t going to cooperate. It was either give him a hard time or sob like a baby. Of the two options, “give him a hard time” won. And dang it, while she was at it, she was going to enjoy this.
Luke tried to stand her upright, but she remained dead weight in his arms. “Jill, stand up.”
She refused. She even hid a smile at his frustration. He picked her up and carried her to a chair and plopped her down onto it. He unlocked the handcuffs and released his wrist.
“Finally. Thank you,” Jill breathed, getting ready to make a run for it. If he wanted to talk to her, it would be on her terms, not his. Kidnapping her and handcuffing her were NOT okay.
Luke smirked as he clicked the handcuffs onto the connecting piece of the wooden arm chair. “Luke!” she cried with irritation.
“Be a good girl and sit still while I make us an early dinner, Raggedy Ann. I don’t plan on starving you.” He even had the nerve to wink. His wicked smile told her he found the situation amusing which only managed to anger her even more.
He’d seated her in a chair that dated back to the seventies. It was a wooden arm chair with beautifully recovered cushions. The wood had been refinished with a high-gloss walnut stain. It was surprisingly comfortable.
Luke put away several of the honeymoon accoutrements, neatly folding the banner and setting it in a box, followed by the table decorations. Rose petals still scattered the flooring, but he ignored them.
Jill watched him start dinner, wondering if he knew what he was doing. Admittedly he didn’t know the way around a kitchen and loved to leave the cooking up to her. The thought brought on a quick memory . . .
“I love to watch you cook, Jill. You’re so fast I can’t keep up with what you’re doing. And the tornado you leave behind . . . it’s particularly fascinating.”
Jill looked around her kitchen. With the exception of her immediate workspace, it was a disaster. “Sorry, Luke. I’m used to having a dishwasher clean up behind me. It’s a hard habit to break.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall in the Chateau kitchen. I’d love to see the four-foot-eleven, blond haired, brown eyed dynamo at work. For just a little girl, you pack a mean punch. In spite of the fact that you need a stool just to get a glass out of the cupboard.” He laughed out loud.
The short jokes and metaphors never ended. They’d followed her throughout her life. The comments were almost always followed by uncontrollable laughter because they evidently just cracked themselves up.
Does the world look different from down there?
Do you have a great perspective on life because you’re always looking up?
Do people often mistake you for a child?
What do you want to be when you grow up?
You’re not short, you’re fun sized.
God only lets things grow until they’re perfect.
Do your feet touch the floor when sitting?
You’re not short, you’re a people mcnugget.
Is it true that XS is too big for you?
I’ve gotta hand it to short people . . . because you can’t reach it.
Yep, she’d heard them all. All. The. Time. They got old real quick.
Jill sighed. Luke had always love
d her height, or lack of it. He’d always said he found her adorable.
But right now, she really wished her feet were touching the floor. She felt like a child sitting in a grown up chair; like the classic Lily Tomlin in a huge rocking chair.
Luke stood at five-foot-ten, neither too tall nor too short and just perfect for her.
He’d always been the perfect man for her.
And that’s the truth. Raspberries were in order, but she decided not to call attention to herself in such a manner.
Yep, her jokes were horrible. But her terrible jokes always made Luke laugh, making her funny in a roundabout way. Or maybe the joke was on her. Either way, she nixed the idea of sharing her funny-to-her thoughts.
Jill took in her surroundings. The main living area in the ranch house was one huge, open room, stuffed to the brim with furniture groupings to create “conversation areas.” The kitchen overlooked the living area, giving the space an open feel. Four large bedrooms with connecting bathrooms were directly off the living room, two on each side. Beyond the kitchen was a large sunroom. The backyard boasted a kidney shaped pool. The sparkling aquamarine oasis called to her. Jill longed to slice through its cool depths. It would be a nice respite.
“Do tacos sound good?” Luke asked.
Jill didn’t answer. She stared straight ahead and folded her arms across her chest the best she could when one hand was handcuffed to a chair.
“Do you like cilantro, or are you one of those chefs who think it tastes like dish soap?”
She loved cilantro and never understood the dish soap comparison. At any rate, she was surprised he knew such culinary trivia. She didn’t answer.
“Oh, I get it, I’m getting the silent treatment now. By the way, I know what it means when a woman gives a man the silent treatment.”
“Do you?” Jill asked. “Pray tell.”
“Ha! You just broke your silence.”
Dang it. Jill frowned.
“It means ‘I can’t stand to be in the same room as you or breathe the same air as you and you’d better shut the heck up before I kill you with the deadly beam from my eyes.’ Or it could just mean ‘I hate you right now.’ Same difference.”
“You get all that from silence?”
