by Mae Nunn
He stood, pulling her to her feet as the phone jangled.
“Hello?” He broke into a smile. “Hey, cutie pie! How are you?”
Jessica followed his movements as he turned away. He busied himself clearing off the counter, moving the few items from the sink to the dishwasher.
He listened patiently, asking questions about Faith’s friends. His interest in their activities made Jessica’s heart glow with warmth.
Remembering his incredible story, Jessica felt a shudder skitter through her body. God had spared Drew and brought him into her life. To love.
There was no denying it. She loved him. But could he ever return her feelings?
And if he could, would his father accept their relationship?
“I’ll be home in a few months and, yes, you can wait that long.” He paused, smiling at Jessica. “Okay, I’ll be sure to do that. When Father returns from his trip give him my love. Bye.”
He’d hardly laid the phone back in its cradle when it rang again. He snatched it back up with a smile and punched the talk button. “Of course, I love you, too,” he greeted the caller.
“Well, I’m certainly glad to see that you’ve come to your senses.” The sultry voice floated over the line.
“Amelia.” He glanced at Jessica as he spoke. “What do you want?”
Jessica turned to leave. He quickly motioned her to sit down and he held up one finger to ask for a little time. Then he turned away so she wouldn’t have to hear.
“Please, Drew, we can’t let this misunderstanding upset our plans. I’ve finally found a man Daddy approves of. He’ll be furious if he thinks I’ve spoiled our future together.”
“We don’t have anything together.”
“That’s not true. Don’t let a little difference of opinion get in the way of the good we can do for the people of this state.”
He was silent, turning just in time to see his front door close quietly behind Jessica. He let out a deep sigh of resignation. It wasn’t lost on Amelia.
“Just come listen to me for five minutes. That’s all I ask.”
He had to admit this was entirely his fault. The least he could do was apologize properly.
“Okay. I’ll be at your place at eight in the morning.”
Drew went out and knocked lightly on Jessica’s door. He waited impatiently in the hallway as Frasier’s anxious barking ceased and a single pair of footsteps approached the door. Darkness swallowed up the tiny beam of light behind the peephole and the dead bolt turned.
Jessica’s face was scrubbed pink and her hair was braided. She wore a T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms.
Drew thought he’d never seen anything so appealing in his life.
He sensed her fear even before she spoke.
“You’re going to see Amelia.”
His gut twisted at the statement of the fait accompli, and he wished he could correct her.
“Believe it or not, Amelia also had a lot riding on our relationship, and ending it is complicated.”
“But it would be simple to end things with me.” She stepped back, putting distance between them. His hand shot out, catching her chin and pulling her back to face him.
“Come on, Jess. I didn’t say that.”
“Drew, you have enough complications in your life. We both do. Maybe it’s best if we settle for friendship.”
“It’s way too late for that.” He slipped his hand away from her chin and slid it around the back of her neck. With his other hand he reached behind her waist as he stepped closer. He bent his head to hers and captured her mouth.
Her hands moved up the length of his back, and for endless moments they clung together.
Jessica braced her palms against his chest and gently pushed away, breaking the kiss. Her eyes were too shiny when she looked up at him.
“Go do your talking.”
She stepped back across the safety of the threshold and prepared to close the door.
“First I need to say one thing to you,” he insisted.
She held her breath. He could see she expected the worst.
“I love you, Jess,” he whispered hoarsely.
In a déjà vu moment he puckered his lips, blew her a noisy kiss and was gone.
The tall man paid the cabdriver and rushed through the familiar airport. He passed the security checkpoint and stepped onto a waiting transport bus in time to make the final flight of the day.
He handed the unnecessary identification to the congenial gate agent.
“Courtesy seating has already begun, so you may board at your convenience, Senator Keegan.”
Marcus Keegan nodded in response and hurried on.
Chapter Sixteen
Five-thirty. The novelty clock built from a ’65 automobile hubcap, hanging over his stereo, stared back at him. Drew had invited Jessica to meet him at the High Museum at seven o’clock, after her appointment with a new client. He wanted to blurt out the details of his meeting with Amelia, but it was something that deserved to be said face-to-face. He knew from the look of resignation in Jessica’s eyes last night, and the sound of her voice today, that his proposal would be a surprise.
He lifted the small velvet box and snapped open the lid for the tenth time that hour. It wasn’t the family heirloom he’d always hoped to give his bride, but the two-carat oval diamond, which had cost him restoration services on a Boss 302, would certainly be worn with pride. Jessica was blessedly far from petite, and no small engagement stone would do.
He leaned his head back against soft sofa cushions and as he closed his eyes in an effort to relax and pray his mother’s face filled his mind’s eye. Over a decade had passed since her death, but no picture was needed to remind him of her beauty or her spirit.
“Oh, Mom, I know you’d love her,” he whispered aloud. “She’s so determined to do things on her own. Even if she doesn’t need my help, I hope she needs my love.”
The intercom buzzer jolted him off the couch and toward the speaker by the front door.
“Drew Keegan here.”
“Son?”
“Sir!”
“If you’ll clear me, I’ll be in your parking lot in ten seconds.”
Drew activated the gates and slid the velvet box into his pocket. Self-consciously he confirmed his shirt was neatly tucked. He glanced down the length of his creased jeans and wished for another sixty seconds to change into his leather loafers. Sneakers would have to do.
By the time he reached the vestibule and swung open the heavy door, his father’s rental car was pulling alongside the curb.
“Faith said you were traveling. Is everything okay?”
Marcus stepped from the conservative sedan and reached for his son. The two men clasped hands and drew one another into a hug.
“With such a big decision hanging in the balance, I just couldn’t leave things the way we did.”
Drew warmed with embarrassment for the way he’d abruptly ended their last conversation. Seeing his father here in Atlanta, Drew felt his heart clutch. There was still a chance Marcus might see things from Drew’s perspective.
“Thank you for coming, sir.”
Marcus glanced toward the copper dome of the Commons and nodded his approval.
“Quite a nice place you have here.”
Drew recalled his first impression of Sacred Arms and offered his father the same tour of the gardens that Valentine had given that first day. Drew painstakingly pointed out the many improvements that had been made to the grounds in recent years. Although he avoided mentioning Jessica by name, his message was clear from the many references to the landscape design artist.
Marcus admired the grounds, but he never once let Drew finish a statement about Jessica. It became painfully obvious he hadn’t softened to the idea that a future with a glorified gardener, no matter how talented, was the right future for his only son.
They climbed the fieldstone path in silence. Drew realized they could hardly be further apart on the subject.
; The metal door banged closed behind them as they entered the quiet hallway. Drew reached for his keys as he passed Jessica’s door. He brushed two fingers over the velvet box in his pocket. His heart thumped hard.
He opened the front door and stepped aside respectfully.
“It won’t take long for me to make us some coffee, sir. You have a look around.”
The two exchanged comments on the architecture and restoration of the building. Drew ground aromatic beans and added bottled springwater to the coffee-maker. While the pool of dark brew collected in the glass pot, Drew waited for his father to get to the point of his visit.
“You have a beautiful home,” Marcus said as he returned from inspecting the rooms upstairs. “Now I know where your sister’s gotten the idea for a new bathtub.”
Drew glanced at the kitchen clock. He’d planned to leave at six. He was already ten minutes late and he needed to change.
Marcus took the proffered cup. He kept his eyes down, stirring his coffee.
“I know you have plans for the evening, son, and I’m sorry if I’m holding you up.” He fixed his eyes on Drew. “But I just can’t allow you to commit to such a poorly thought out decision.”
Drew gripped the counter’s edge to steady himself while he searched for the right words.
“Sir, while your approval means a great deal to me, I’m not looking for your permission. This isn’t just about me. It’s about Jessica and me and how we feel about each other.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt you have feelings for the woman. But, Andrew, you don’t make life-changing decisions based upon feelings. You make them based upon facts. And if I understand correctly, the facts are that this woman’s past, not to mention her present, makes her completely inappropriate for you to consider as a wife. I implore you to give this more time. Don’t deal yourself a setback you may regret the rest of your life.”
Anger churned in Drew’s center. Afraid he was about to damage the relationship with his father beyond repair, Drew motioned for Marcus to follow him to the sofa.
Holy Father, give me the words to get through to him, Drew prayed silently.
When both men were seated, he leaned forward, moved the worn Bible aside and opened the mahogany chest he kept on the tabletop. He gently withdrew a letter postmarked during his freshman year at West Point.
“Don’t ask me why, but of all the letters Mom sent to me at school, I kept this one. I read it once in a while to feel close to her and to help remind me of the way Faith used to be.” He placed the letter in his father’s outstretched hand and stood. “I’m sorry to cut our visit so short, but I’m meeting Jessica this evening. Please make yourself comfortable while I change.”
Marcus held the letter tenderly, eyes misting at the sight of the familiar handwriting. He carefully opened the flap and withdrew the pages of embossed stationery.
Dear Andrew,
Today has been one of those crazy days for your father and me. One minute we were poring over brochures for a summer vacation and the next he was packing for a special session and I was cooking a pot roast for a member of our church who suddenly lost her husband. Your father’s quick departure and this unexpected death have got me down. I thought maybe spending a few minutes with you might help.
For some time now it’s been in my heart to tell you how proud you’ve made me. You’ve grown into such a marvelous young man with a tremendous sense of service and leadership. You get those things from Marcus. Heaven knows that if it were left up to me I’d hardly give blood, much less so much of my time and energy. You know I never planned on living a public life. Your father’s ambition changed everything, and somehow I’ve managed to adapt. But if it weren’t for our love and total commitment to one another I don’t believe I could have handled all of this.
Now I’ve probably said too much. But you’re a grown man, Andrew, and I don’t want to pass up this opportunity to give you some sage advice. Your choice of a mate is the most important decision you’ll ever make. If love isn’t at the center of the relationship, it cannot survive. A marriage can falter under the best of conditions, so when it’s stressed to its limits, it had better have a solid foundation to support it through the tough times.
For me that foundation has always been our family. Loving the three of you fiercely, and wanting whatever’s best for my children, has kept me sane on days when one more fund-raiser or toll booth dedication would otherwise have driven me over the edge. I look forward to the day when we retire from the Senate and life is our own again, if that’s ever truly possible. Hopefully, you and Faith will give us a houseful of noisy grandchildren to spoil rotten in our golden years.
Speaking of Faith, your sister is a constant source of amazement. Last month she thought managing her own restaurant would be just the thing and this week she’s passionate about going to law school so she can become a judge. She told me in no uncertain terms that she’s a woman with a limitless future and that I’m holding her back by not allowing her to drive yet. I swear you were never this headstrong at thirteen!
Well, I am feeling better now. I should probably just throw this letter away and consider the time writing it as therapy. But I’d never want to pass up the chance to tell my son how much I love him and miss his company. The music room is too quiet without you.
Love, Mom
Marcus read the letter several times. Fingering the pages softly, he lifted them to his face and inhaled, somehow expecting to find her scent still clinging. How like her to unknowingly leave behind words of wisdom and comfort. How like Andrew to treasure them and use them now, to give the same wisdom and comfort to his opinionated father.
He glanced at the watch that was his Senate retirement gift and knew it would be a waste of time to delay Andrew a moment longer. He was clearly on a mission.
Folding the letter carefully back into its envelope, Marcus gently returned it to the keepsake box. When the mahogany box was once again centered exactly in the middle of the table, he reached into his breast pocket and deposited a treasure of his own atop the old family Bible. He took one last approving look at the very organized surroundings and headed toward the door.
Escaping the noise of Peachtree Street, Jessica stepped into the hushed quiet of Atlanta’s favorite gallery. She felt pressure on her chest, the same weight of despair that she experienced in the old familiar dream. She buffed her palms over her forearms to fight off the chilling feeling.
She crossed the heart-of-pine floor and moved deeper into the cool museum, aware of the extraordinary collection of photographs on display, but not taking the time to appreciate them. Stopping before a collection on loan from a benevolent rock star, she checked her appearance in the glare from the glass of a life-size portrait.
Not surprisingly, her collar was turned up on one side, her lipstick was long since chewed off and the clip she’d spent ten minutes arranging in her hair had slipped out somewhere between home and the museum’s parking lot.
“Jessica?”
She turned toward the voice. Madeline Shure approached with her usual air of self-confidence, heels clicking rhythmically on the wood, face shaded by a thousand-dollar panama hat. Jessica bent to take the older woman’s hand and they exchanged air kisses, the only kind Madeline ever participated in.
“I left you a phone message earlier, my dear. I insist you drop by for brunch tomorrow. I’ve invited several friends who’ve shown interest in your services as well as in supporting Helping Hands. If you have a final statement, bring that along and we’ll settle up.”
Remembering the substantial bill that was still outstanding, Jessica quickly agreed. She needed to pay the mortgage and make good on her deal with Sam.
“You’ve been so generous, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”
“Nonsense.” Madeline waved the gratitude aside. “You helped me pull off a spectacular event and I won’t soon forget it. Now I have to run. There’s a small gathering in one of the private rooms in the back. Some sort of surprise anno
uncement and I can’t be late.” She touched the brim of her hat.
Jessica stood alone for a while as a number of familiar faces hurried past. One couple recognized her and politely nodded their acknowledgment, while another pretended not to notice her at all.
Flushing at the obvious snubbing, she turned away from the oncoming traffic and stared through the glass wall at the lengthening shadows outside. It had to be getting close to eight. She squinted her eyes impatiently and searched for Drew among the pedestrians.
When she spotted his powerfully broad shoulders, a shard of anxiety lodged in her chest. She pressed her hand against her heart and felt its erratic beat. Turning away before he could see her reaction, she closed her eyes and practiced a long-neglected relaxation technique. It was a waste of time.
She caught his reflection in the darkening glass as he entered the museum and crossed the room. Her heart pounded harder at the smile that played across his face. When he reached for her she turned quickly, jumping to avoid his touch.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.” She brought her hand to her heart once more.
“I’m also sorry for being so late. I got held up and I was determined to take the time to change.” He motioned toward his clothes. She drank in the sight of his beloved in a navy suit and monogrammed dress shirt.
He continued, “I knew you’d dress for the evening—and you’re amazing in that color.”
Immediately self-conscious, she smoothed her hands down the front of her new green jacket and matching silk slacks, another of Becky Jo’s selections that she claimed was the perfect complement to her friend’s figure.
Drew leaned in and growled seductively into her ear.
She swatted him away and glanced around to see if anybody had heard. He took her hand and began to tug her along behind him, seemingly in search of some privacy. At the end of the hallway, a wooden bench was fitted into an alcove. With the bench in their sights, he slowed.
Excitement buzzed in a nearby room, but she tuned it out as they stood close together. Drew took her hand and threaded her fingers through his. He sucked in a deep breath. As he opened his mouth to begin, she quickly interrupted.
