Sentimental Journey

by Janet Dailey

  It was difficult to refuse in the face of his persuasions. He was making her feel guilty and heartless. Only the sensation that he was a little too smooth made Jessica persist in her rejection.

  "I doubt if I would be able to do much reminiscing, since your 'old times' were not mine. I would be able to supply you with little information about your contemporaries and where, they are and what they're doing today," she argued, hiding her terseness behind a smile.

  "My contemporaries were also your sister's and brother's. I'm sure you've heard them speak about their friends." A gust of wind ruffled his midnight-black hair. In a careless gesture, his fingers combed it back into order. "You'd probably be surprised at how much information you've unconsciously gathered."

  "Possibly," she conceded that he might be right.

  "Shall I pick you up at eight o'clock?" Brodie didn't repeat his invitation, but rephrased it to take her acceptance for granted.

  Jessica hesitated, finding herself at a loss to battle him with words. With a sigh, she released the breath she had unconsciously been holding and flashed him a quick smile.

  "Eight o'clock will be fine," she agreed, and glanced at her watch. "I have to run. See you tonight…Brodie." Her tongue tripped over his given name.

  "Tonight," he agreed with an arrogantly pleased smile.

  But Jessica was already moving away, not allowing him another chance to detain her. She hurried down the sidewalk, not looking behind her to see if Brodie Hayes was watching her leave.

  There was no sense of triumph in having eluded him, nor in having bested him. She had agreed to the dinner invitation for the simple reason that it was the easy way out. She knew she wouldn't be going with him when she had accepted. Not because she was going elsewhere that evening. The fact was that Brodie Hayes did not know where she lived, and her telephone was not listed in the directory, so there was no chance he could find her. A man like Brodie Hayes would not take kindly to being stood up, but with luck she would never bump into him again.

  At the building where she worked, Jessica paused to glance behind her. She scanned the people on the sidewalk and felt silly for thinking that Brodie might have followed her. With an impatient shake of her head, she pushed open the glass door and walked in.

  Riding the elevator, Jessica shrugged out of her coat and tried not to let her mind dwell on what she had just done. But it had left a sour aftertaste in her mouth. Her expression was downcast and slightly preoccupied as she entered the outer office area.

  Ann Morrow, the receptionist, glanced up and frowned. "I wasn't expecting you for another twenty minutes, Miss Thorne."

  "I came back early," she answered abruptly, and immediately tempered her sharpness. "I wanted to look over the Atkins account."

  "I took the file into Mr. Dane's office a few minutes ago." The girl lifted her shoulders in mute apology.

  "That's all right." Jessica hadn't really been interested in looking over the account, at least not overly so. Now that her uncle, Ralph Dane, was going over the file, there was no point her looking at it. "I'll be in my office if anyone calls for me."

  As Jessica turned away, she found herself thinking that Brodie Hayes wouldn't call. He didn't know where she worked, either.

  A door opened and a tall, distinguished-looking man came striding out. His dark hair was grayed at the temples, a pair of dark-rimmed glasses were in his hand.

  "Ann…" he began, glancing up from the file he held. At the familiar sound of her uncle's voice, Jessica paused instinctively. His peripheral vision caught her presence and his attention immediately shifted to her. "Jessie, you're back already. You're just the person I wanted to see. Come into my of rice."

  He didn't wait to see if she was coming as he retraced his path, leaving the door to his private office open for her. Jessica hesitated for only a split second, then tossed her coat over the back of the chair beside the receptionist's desk and followed him. Closing the door, she walked to a leather-covered chair and set her bag on the seat.

  "Back early from lunch, aren't you?" he accused in his terse, clipped voice. "Not that I mind. This Atkins account is a shambles." He dropped the file on his desk and pushed back the cuff of his jacket to glance at his watch. "What are you—a glutton for work? Twenty minutes early."

  "I had my lunch. There wasn't any shopping I wanted to do, so I came back to the office." Jessica shrugged.

  "No shopping, huh?" Ralph Dane grunted. "I'd celebrate the day your Aunt Rebecca ever said that!" Hitching up his trousers, he sat down in the swivel chair behind his desk and opened the file holder. "I've just looked over the Atkins file. The ad campaign is…hokey, for want of a better word. Parts of it are worth saving, hut this…"

  A red pencil began slashing out tines of copy while Jessica moved closer to the desk, turning at an angle to see what he was eliminating. Her concentration held for two minutes until the words "success" and "hometown boy" made her attention stray. They came too soon after her encounter with Brodie Hayes for her not to apply them to him instead of this old and valued account.

  "Are you listening to me, Jessie?" her uncle demanded impatiently.

  She winced, both at her inattention and his diminutive use of her name. "Sorry, I was thinking," she admitted.

  "Not about this, obviously." He flipped the pencil onto the desk top and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "Out with whatever it is that's on your mind so we can concentrate on this."

  "It wasn't anything important."

  "Important enough for you not to pay attention. Get it off your chest," he ordered.

  Jessica knew her uncle well enough to know he would persist with his questions until she came up with a response. She had never been any good at making up stories, so she settled for the truth, or a portion thereof.

  "On my way back to the office, I met a man who lived here several years ago, a hometown boy who's doing quite well now. The comparison with the Atkins campaign clicked in my mind."

  "Who is he?"

  "Brodie Hayes." Jessica was surprised by how naturally she spoke his name.

  "Never heard of him," her uncle grumped. "Anything else?"

  "No." Nothing that she was going to tell him.

  The trick she had pulled on Brodie Hayes was strictly private. It wasn't something she was proud of and she wasn't going to confide in her uncle. Despite their family relation he was still her boss, and she didn't want him to know she had used devious means to handle a situation. He was too open and aboveboard in his dealings to condone such behavior.

  "Take this file, look over my notes, add some of your own, and take it back to the boys. Tell them they'd better come up with something better than this or they're fired." He closed the folder and handed it to her.

  Hiding a smile at his false threat, she nodded. "Will do."

  In the outer office, she paused to pick up her coat. Ann Morrow was on the telephone. Jessica pointed to her office to indicate to the receptionist that that was where she would be, and the girl nodded.

  Her office was small, containing no more than a desk, two chairs and a filing cabinet, but then she was a very junior member of the staff. Jessica's first year with her uncle's advertising firm had been spent in the back room, learning the fundamentals. When her apprenticeship had been served, she had been elevated to handling accounts.

  In truth, the accounts were with old established customers, and Ralph Dane worked closely with her on these. Jessica knew she had obtained the job because she was his niece. But she also knew that if she weren't capable, the family ties would not guarantee that she would keep the job.

  Sighing, Jessica settled into the lumpy seat of her chair and Opened the file. She skimmed over the cuts and read the notes in the margin. Some of the changes she would have made; others she wouldn't have noticed. Her uncle had an instinctive knack for what was abrasive to the public. Perhaps she would learn this talent in time.

  In time. Time. How long had it been since she had last seen Brodie Ha
yes? Ten years? She had been—what…eleven or twelve?

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  Chapter Two

  JESSICA DECIDED she had been eleven years old. It was surprising what an indelible impression Brodie Hayes had made on her. She could even recall vividly the first time she had heard his name. It had been on a Saturday afternoon in July. She had been in the family room with her sister and brother, listening to the stereo.

  Despite the vast age difference, they had never minded Jessica hanging around them. Her adoration of them had bordered on hero worship. They were so much older, had done so much more and were permitted to do so much more that Jessica got a vicarious thrill out of quietly listening to them talk.

  Her father had walked in and raised his voice to be heard over the volume of the music. "Jordanna, there's a rather disreputable-looking man at the front door who wants to speak to you."

  At first, her sister had only expressed mild surprise that someone was calling to see her, but as her father's words had sunk in, her expression changed to one of apprehension and dismay.

  "It couldn't be," she protested. "Brodie Hayes wouldn't come here."

  "Brodie Hayes?" Her brother, Justin, frowned in surprise. "You never mentioned that you were seeing him."

  "I'm not," Jordanna protested, while Jessica looked on with mounting interest. Her brother had sounded angry and faintly outraged. It made Jessica wonder who this Brodie Hayes was. "A bunch of us went swimming at the lake a couple of weeks ago," Jordanna explained in defense of her brother's accusation. "Brodie was there. I talked to him, just to be polite, and he's been pestering me to go out with him ever since."

  "He's no good, Jordanna," Justin stated flatly. "Stay away from him."

  "I intend to." Jordanna was emphatic. "There's something about him that scares me."

  "If you feel that way, Jordanna," her father spoke up, "I'll tell him that you don't want to see him."

  Jessica sat quietly on the large, boldly colored rug in front of the fireplace, glancing from one speaker to another, her head turning back and forth as if she were watching a tennis match. With every word that was spoken, her ears had figuratively grown bigger and bigger.

  For Jordanna who was so self-possessed and so popular to be frightened of anyone seemed beyond Jessica's ken. And Justin's warning added to her wide-eyed intrigue.

  "No, dad." Jordanna hesitated before refusing the offer. "I'll talk to him."

  But, by her expression, Jessica could tell that her sister wasn't looking forward to it as she left the room. Justin then walked over to turn the volume of the stereo down to low. Jessica had the impression that he expected their sister to call for help and he wanted to be sure to hear her.

  Her father remained in the room. Turning to Justin, he demanded, "Just who is this Brodie Hayes?"

  Justin appeared to hesitate, a frown permanently implanted on his forehead. "He was in my class in high school—that is, when he bothered to come to class. He was smart, though. He wasn't in school half the time and still managed to pull above-average grades. But he dropped out when he was sixteen. He runs with a rough crowd. Those who haven't been in reform school have seen the inside of a jail cell."

  "I don't like the idea of Jordanna getting mixed up with that sort." Her father's expression deepened with concern. He took a step toward the door. "I think I'd better send that young man on his way."

  "No, dad, let Jordanna handle it," Justin insisted. "Believe me, it's better that Brodie doesn't develop a grudge against the Thorne family."

  Her father looked grim, but did not argue. Neither man had been paying any attention to the silent Jessica. Silently she slipped from the room and darted up the open staircase to her bedroom. The reason was simple and obvious: from the window of her room, she was able to overlook and overhear what was going on below.

  Her first glimpse of Brodie Hayes fulfilled all the expectations her vivid imagination had conjured up. Coal black hair, black as she devil's, gleamed in the sunlight. Tall, with a powerful physique, he dwarfed her slightly built sister, Faded jeans showed signs of excessive wear. His bare arms were corded with sinewy muscles. He was surrounded by an aura of toughness that was doubly intimidating to Jessica when coupled with what her brother had said about him.

  Jordanna appeared on the surface to be composed, but Jessica who knew her well saw the nervous trembling of her smile and the distance her sister tried to maintain from the rough-looking, dark-haired man. From her lofty perch Jessica eavesdropped on the conversation.

  "Are you engaged?" Brodie Hayes demanded.

  "No," Jordanna answered defensively.

  "Are you going steady with anyone?" He had taken a step closer and Jessica trembled in sympathy for her sister.

  "Not at the present time, I'm not," Jordanna admitted in a tone that indicated that that fact was of little importance.

  "Then I don't see what's stopping you from accepting my invitation." It was more than a challenge.

  "I'm sorry." Jordanna walked several feet away, escaping from the intimidation of his closeness. "I've already told you I'm busy. I'm sorry you've come all this way for nothing, but you should have called first."

  "Yeah," he agreed cynically, "all the way from the wrong side of town."

  The remark seemed to make Jordanna uneasy. "I said I was sorry, Brodie."

  "And I'm supposed to say it's all right. Forget it." The mockery in his voice was harsh. He took a deep breath, the muscled wall of his chest expanding to strain the few buttons of his shirt that were fastened. "Very well, consider it said. But there's one other thing; I haven't given up." Peering from her window, Jessica shivered with fear because it had sounded like a warning. "You have more class in your little finger, Jordanna, than all the other girls I know put together. I'll be seeing you again, you can bet on it."

  On that ominous note, he turned and started down the long sidewalk to the driveway. Jessica heard the closing of the front door, indicating that her sister had reentered the house; but she wasn't able to take her eyes off the tall, dark-haired man striding away.

  There was something about the way he moved, lithe and supple, that reminded her of a wild animal. She remembered the sensation she had felt when her parents had taken her to a zoo in California and she had seen a large wolf loping across an enclosure designed to resemble his native habitat. She had sensed she was looking at something ruthless, predatory and dangerous.

  Staring after Brodie Hayes, Jessica had the same feeling. And as with the wild lobo, she experienced the same compelling fascination to watch Brodie Hayes from a safe distance. But she knew that if she ever met him face to face, she would be terrified.

  Her knees were shaking when he drove away in a battered Chevrolet. Part of her wanted to curl up in the big, overstuffed chair in her room until the trembling stopped. But the stronger urge was to race downstairs to discover her sister's reaction to the meeting.

  It was as easy to slip, unseen, into the family room as it had been to slip out. Her sister was standing at a window, staring at the expansive rear lawn, and Justin was watching her. There was no sign of their father.

  "You should have told him you didn't want to see him again," Justin said with undisguised impatience.

  "That's easier said than done, And I doubt if he would have listened." Jordanna moved away from the window and began nibbling on a fingernail. "God, do you know what he told me, Justin?" She laughed, but it had been a shrill sound. "That I had more class in my little finger than all the girls he knew!"

  "That isn't surprising, considering the kind of girls he knows. You know the reputation the girls have that he dates. If you were ever seen with him, people would say the same thing about you."

  Jessica checked herself just in time from asking what people would say. That wasn't the moment to interrupt the conversation with questions. She kept silent and played the little mouse in the corner.

  "I know that. Believe me, I have no intention of going anywhere with him," Jordanna state
d emphatically.

  "I should hope not!"

  Jordanna shuddered and rubbed her arms. "There's something about him that frightens me. I think it's his eyes—they're so piercing. You have the feeling he's looking into your soul. And they never seem to register any emotion. Even when he smiles, his eyes don't."

  "What color are his eyes?" Jessica had piped up, forgetting her vow to remain silent.

  "Blue," Jordanna answered automatically, then exchanged a quick glance with Justin as they both realized she had been listening.

  Since her presence had been noted, Jessica tried to include herself in the discussion. "I thought he looked dangerous," she added.

  "When have you ever seen him?" Jordanna frowned.

  But Justin smiled. "I'll bet it was from your bedroom window, wasn't it, Jessica?"

  "I wanted to see what he looked like," she answered in defense of her action.

  "You shouldn't spy on people like that." The admonishment came from her sister.

  "What's the matter?" Justin teased. "Afraid of what little sister might see when you and Tom say your good-nights?"

  "Oooh!" Jordanna picked up a pillow from the sofa and threw it at her brother.

  Much to Jessica's regret, the conversation never got back to Brodie Hayes. She knew it was because she was there.

  The second time Jessica had seen Brodie Hayes, she and her sister had been in the house alone. Justin was off playing tennis with some of his buddies. Their father was working and their mother was at a committee meeting of the local auxiliary.

  Skinny and shapeless in her bathing suit, Jessica was swimming in the pool in the backyard. Just as she entered the house through the rear sliding glass doors, the bell at the front door rang.

  "I'll answer it!" she shouted, and raced barefoot to the entryway.