No. She had to do this alone. Jenny straightened, lowered her legs and faced him.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said defiantly, willing her voice not to crack.
“You’re not?” He frowned, puzzled. “So you’re unhappy about not being pregnant?”
A short laugh—which sounded more like a sob—escaped. “It’s complicated.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She wished she could. She curled her trembling fingers into fists in her lap. “Last time I did that, you made things worse.” He had no idea how much worse.
Tru sighed heavily. “Maybe if you’d told me the whole story then...”
“What more was there to tell?” Jenny cut in. “I explained why I was scared to make love with you. Did you need every sordid detail?”
“Of course not. I know how tough it was for you to tell me about the abuse.” He laid his hand on her clenched fists. “But you could have given me the son of a bitch’s name.”
“I took a huge risk telling you what I did.” Her pulse jumped as the old fear resurfaced. “Douglas threatened to have Social Services put me into foster care if I said anything. Then he’d have turned his attentions to Lizzie. I couldn’t...wouldn’t allow that.”
“Couldn’t you have given me a hint?” Anguish roughened his voice.
For the first time, Jenny realized that Tru had suffered, too. He was another victim of that evil predator.
“I wanted to tell you,” she admitted softly. “But he convinced me no one would believe my story. That they’d think I was a hysterical teenager going through the usual issues with a strict uncle.”
“I believed you. That’s why I tried to help. I went to the one person in our community I thought I could trust.” Tru paused, his jaw working. “How could I have known your uncle was the one abusing you?”
“Pastor Boult.” Bitterness echoed through the kitchen. “A saint in his own lifetime. Only God could hold him to account. I hope he’s rotting in hell.”
Silence fell—a post-cathartic quiet.
“I’m so sorry.” Tru squeezed her hand. “I never dreamed my actions would land you in the hospital that night.”
“You knew my uncle beat me up? The official story was that I was attacked by thieves who wanted the church’s collection box.”
“The so-called attack was too coincidental. I don’t understand why your uncle wasn’t charged.”
“He made me lie to the police.” Shame filled her, even though she’d had no choice at the time.
“I should have known.” Tru nodded. “I confronted him a few days later, threatening to tell everyone what he’d done.” His lips twisted. “The bastard laughed. He said no one would believe a kid over a priest.”
Jenny hadn’t known Tru had taken on her uncle. Some of her long-held bitterness seeped away, to be replaced by warmth. “Thank you for trying.”
“I wanted to see you in the hospital but he wouldn’t let me. Once you were released, you made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“It was a difficult time.” Major understatement. “I had a lot to deal with.”
“If the situation had been reversed, you’d have tried to help me,” Tru said softly.
Jenny cocked her head. He was right. Back then, she’d have fought Satan himself to protect Tru. “You’re right.”
Disbelief warred with hope in his green eyes. “Does that mean you understand why I did what I did?”
“I understand.”
“Can you forgive me?” His gaze studied her face.
Jenny took her time answering. The pain-fueled anger that had burned within her for so long had begun to subside. But forgiveness was a big question. Especially when her heart was heavy with grief. Tru’s mistake—however well-intentioned—continued to cost her. “If only you hadn’t assumed you knew best and gone against my wishes.”
“I couldn’t do nothing while he hurt you.” He leaned closer. “I loved you.”
She’d loved him, too. Unfortunately, she’d learned the hard way that love wasn’t enough.
“Your actions nearly destroyed me.” She shook her head sadly. “If you’d really loved me, you’d have trusted me.”
Jenny pushed her chair back, breaking the contact between them. Instantly, she missed his touch. Her throat tightened with regret. “I should go.”
* * *
“NO. WAIT. PLEASE.”
Tru couldn’t let Jenny leave now. Once she walked out the door, the progress they’d made this morning would be lost. The beginnings of a tentative peace between them would crumble and things would go back to how they were before.
He tried to stall. “You haven’t explained why you’re upset about not being pregnant.”
Jenny slid her purse strap onto her shoulder. The sorrow in her blue eyes was heartbreaking. “Because I want to be pregnant. I had one chance. It failed, last night. Dream over.”
He frowned. “What chance failed and why isn’t there another one?”
Sagging against the table, Jenny looked defeated. She said nothing for several minutes. Finally, she sighed and sat back down. Her fingers twisted in her lap. “I tried IVF.”
Her initially stilted explanation soon gathered momentum as the whole story poured out. The roller-coaster ride of hope and despair. Tru’s eyes were burning by the time she got to yesterday’s negative test result.
He ached to take her in his arms and comfort her. The need to make things right clawed at his insides. Just as it had when he was sixteen. “Can’t you try again?”
“I can’t afford another round. It’s an expensive procedure and I don’t have spare frozen embryos. Because of the internal damage, I could only produce one egg, even with the highest level of drugs, so I’d have to start again from scratch.”
“I have plenty of mon...” He broke off. A chill went down his spine. “Damage?”
She dropped her gaze. “Scarring. I also only have one partially working ovary.”
His heart began to thump painfully. “From him?”
Jenny raised her gaze slowly, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “Yes.”
The truth slammed into him, like a slap shot at close range. “From that night?”
“Yes.”
The single word, barely a whisper, echoed in his head. His throat constricted, until he could barely breathe. No wonder she couldn’t forgive him.
How could he forgive himself?
“I didn’t know,” he began, but he couldn’t continue. What the hell could he say?
“No one knew.” Jenny’s voice was raw. “At the time, I thought the damaged spleen and cracked ribs were the worst of my injuries. When they checked me out for IVF, I discovered they’d just been the tip of the iceberg.”
His stomach twisted, causing bile to rise in his throat. He’d known he’d screwed up royally by going to Pastor Boult. Now Tru knew the full extent of the suffering he’d caused.
Was still causing.
He had to help. He couldn’t fix the physical damage, but he had to do something.
Easier said than done. It wasn’t as if he could slay a dragon, like some fairy-tale knight on a white charger. The dragon was already dead.
Through the whirling maelstrom of emotions, a thought occurred. He could slay another dragon. “However much money you need, it’s yours.”
She stiffened. “Thank you, but no. I don’t think it would be appropriate to take money from you.”
He threw up his hands. “What the hell does that mean? I’m not trying to buy your forgiveness, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No. It’s just that my life is complicated enough without adding to it.”
“What’s complicated? It’s a simple gift. No strings attached.”
“I don’t need charity from anyone.” Her voice was flat, hard. “Least of all, from you.”
“You took money from Harry.” Frustration edged his words.
“That was a loan—one I’m struggling to pay back.”
“Okay, call mine a loan, too, with the same repayment terms. It’ll solve your financial worries and give you another shot at IVF. When Harry’s better, you can switch the loan back to him.”
“What if he doesn’t get better? Or recover enough to manage his affairs.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when or if we come to it.”
Jenny shook her head. “Without Harry, I can’t get my job back. Without a job, I can’t pay anyone back. I can’t even afford to live.”
At least she’d shifted from an outright no. “You are...were the personal assistant of a well-known media mogul. It won’t take you long to get another job.”
“But I have no references and in a competitive market where an MBA is the norm, I don’t think they’ll be impressed with my GED.”
Tru recalled that she’d left school right after her eighteenth birthday and missed graduation. It had never occurred to him that she’d never received her diploma. “You’re good enough for Harry to employ. That has to count for something.”
“The situation with Harry was unique.”
As Jenny explained how she’d got her job, Tru’s appreciation for the older man went up. He also got a clearer understanding of the tough predicament Jenny was in.
“What about moving to a less competitive market? Or a slightly different role, like an office manager? The money wouldn’t be as good, but it’d be better than nothing.”
“I’ve thought about that. Lizzie suggested I could do something hockey-related,” she said hesitantly, as if expecting him to sneer. “I could write articles or something. Though I’m not qualified for that, either.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Tru nodded, considering.
“You don’t think they’ll have a hard time taking me seriously?”
“Why?”
Jenny arched an eyebrow.
Guilty heat rose up the back of his neck. Had he heard her suggestion even twenty-four hours ago, his response would have been exactly what Jenny intimated. “But you’re not just a groupie who screwed anyone who could handle a puck. You never were.”
It felt strange to be defending her, when he’d spent so long sniping at her so-called hobby. “Your hockey knowledge is second to none. People respect you. They listen to you. How many guys have asked you for advice about the way they play, the opposition, the curve of their stick?”
“Still, a casual discussion at the rink or at a postgame meal is different from writing articles. I’ve never done anything like that.”
“You never pulled together reports for Harry?”
“Sure, but that’s different.”
“How? They both involve compiling stats, drawing conclusions and writing a piece that everyone can understand.”
Jenny tilted her head, considering. “When you put it like that, I guess they are similar. But the media will expect me to have a journalism degree.”
“Maybe not, if it’s only a short-term job—which is all you need.” The idea excited him. “One way to find out. Ask around. I think your reputation for knowing and understanding the game might buy you a pass. Especially with glowing references from me, Jake and Ike.”
“Thanks.” Jenny fiddled with a loose thread in her jeans, clearly wavering.
“What have you got to lose? If the answer’s no, you’re no worse off.”
“It’s worth a shot, I guess. I could try Tim Gordon, over at The Journal. We met at a couple of Harry’s media functions.”
“I can set you up with Tim and with a few other sports editors,” he said enthusiastically. Now that there was a clearly defined goal, he could formulate an action plan. “Rob Tremaine at The Sporting Herald owes me one and Randy...”
“Hold up, Tru.” Jenny held up a hand. “I appreciate the thought, and a reference will be very useful, but I can do this myself.”
Despite the surge of irritation at her stubbornness, he said calmly, “All I’m offering you is a foot in the door. I’ll make a few calls and get you some interviews. The rest is up to you.”
“You won’t pressure anyone to take me on? I don’t want people to think they have to give me a job as a favor to you.”
“I...” He cut himself off. If he argued, she’d only dig her heels in. “Nope, I’ll put in a good word and then back off.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers. Then three. Then two again. What was that damn salute anyway?
Jenny smiled wryly. “You and Jake were thrown out of the Scouts.”
He grinned. “It’s the thought that counts.” Sobering, he caught her gaze. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. You have my word.”
Jenny’s smile faded.
Damn. Wrong thing to say. “This time, I will keep my promise,” he added quickly.
She studied his face for a few moments, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
Finally, a crack in the wall that had stood between them for so long. It would take a hell of a lot to remove even one brick permanently, but there were enough clichés about championships not being won in the first game of the season to prove that patience and determination paid off.
This was a start. Now he had to make sure he didn’t screw it up.
* * *
“WE’LL TALK AGAIN about that loan, when you get a new job.”
Jenny’s head whipped round at Tru’s comment, which broke the silence in the car.
He’d insisted on giving her a ride home. Worried she might still be over the limit, Jenny had acquiesced. Besides, as Tru had observed, with money so tight, there was no point wasting it on a cab. She’d declined his offer to help her collect her car later, though.
Tru kept his gaze on the traffic. “I meant what I said. Anything I can do to help.”
She didn’t have the energy to fight. She’d learned from Harry how to pick her battles with a stubborn man. This was another time when it was better to take the path of least resistance. “All right. Thank you.”
The whole morning had been surreal. She and Tru had barely shared a civilized word in over a decade, yet here he was trying to help her. She shouldn’t have been surprised.
Tru had become the family fixer when his father left. Of the four brothers, Tru had seemed to take the departure hardest. He’d been determined to make up for his father’s absence. Perhaps it had something to do with being the second son. Ike, the eldest, was the sensible one. Kenny, brother number three, never took anything but hockey seriously, while the baby—if you could call a six-foot-three, 210-pound man a baby—Linc, sailed through life, happy-go-lucky, expecting everything to fall into his lap.
Whatever the reason, Tru’s need to fix things had extended to his friends, his teammates and once, long ago, Jenny.
“Here you go.” Tru parked outside Jenny’s house.
He’d opened her door before she’d finished unbuckling her seat belt. Then he walked her to the front door.
“Thanks again.” Jenny inserted her key into the lock. “For everything.”
“No problem. I’ll let you know when I’ve set up those interviews.”
She wanted him to repeat his assurance that he wouldn’t pressure anyone to give her a job, but didn’t want to upset their fragile truce. She opened the door and turned back to him. “In the meantime, I’ll try to make my résumé halfway decent.”
“You’ll be fine. Take care of yourself.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, before sauntering back to his car.
Jenny was still reeling from his searing touch as he drove aw
ay. Her fingertips touched the tingling spot on her skin as her pulse skipped erratically.
After all this time, Tru managed to elicit more reaction than any other man ever had. Her heart thumped heavily at the thought and the memory that followed.
A crisp, clear night. So cold, their breath misted in front of their faces. A bench in the park, near the ice rink where they’d just finished practice. The gentle, almost tentative meeting of lips. The flash of heat exploding within her. The yearning for more.
Her first kiss.
So special. So intimate.
The honking of a car horn jolted her back to the present. Cheeks flushed, Jenny went inside.
She got no farther than the living room and sank onto the couch. Now that the memories she’d tried so hard to shut away had been released, it was hard to stop them filling her mind.
Despite her uncle’s foul actions, her teenage self had naively held out hope for love in her life. She’d tried not to associate the horrible things she’d been forced to do to Douglas with the kissing and cuddling she’d enjoyed so much with Tru. Still, as passion had flared with Tru, she’d found it difficult to go to the next stage. Every time his hands had wandered below her waist, she’d tensed and pulled away shaking.
Naturally, he’d been upset. She’d tried to explain that the problem was with her and had nothing to do with her feelings for him. That she wasn’t ready to go further. Though he’d said he understood, she knew her behavior had hurt him. In the end, more scared of losing him than of her own shame and her uncle’s threats, she’d told Tru the truth.
After Tru’s betrayal, it had been as if a switch had flipped inside. She’d given up on love. Physically she’d gone numb. Over the years, she’d accepted that her response to men, to sex, had been muted permanently.
Yet, with one brief kiss, Tru had flipped the switch back on. He’d reawakened her senses. The yearning she’d thought had disappeared for good blossomed again. Damn it. She had enough to worry about. Tru was an emotional complication she really didn’t need right now.
Jenny closed her eyes and leaned back against the cushions. Weariness washed over her in waves, swiftly followed by grief. Mourning for the childhood she’d never finished, the love she’d had snatched away and the chance to be a mother that she’d lost.
A Perfect Trade (Harlequin Superromance) Page 9
