by Nancy Toback
Tom reeled in his scattered thoughts. “So you’re serious about a transfer?”
“Yes.” Heather’s smile seemed to beg for some sign of encouragement from him. “If he opens the Manhattan branch, can I count on your recommendation?”
“Sure.” Tom frowned. “But have you given this a lot of thought?” He had every inclination to suggest she pray on the matter, but he didn’t sense a spiritual bent in her. Just one more thing he loved about Jess. A perfect day was spreading a blanket on the grass, opening their Bibles, and unearthing the most astounding spiritual truths over a scrumptious lunch she’d prepared.
“Oh, look!” Heather sucked in a soft gasp and gestured to the wooden sign. “A zoo!”
Oh, no, Lord, please! “The zoo is packed on Saturdays.” Tom raked his overtaxed brain to divert her attention. “The restaurant is up ahead.”
“Can we go to the zoo?” she pleaded. “After brunch?” Heather’s eyes shone up at him from her baby face. Was she flirting? He wouldn’t recognize flirting unless a woman hit him over the head, Frank alleged. In Heather’s presence, he felt solidly hit over the head.
This was his Saturday. His day off. Right. And he’d be toast if Elliot found out he did anything to lose this account. “Sure—if you’d like.”
“I’d like.”
❧
“If I have to ask you again—” Marilyn knelt beside the twin stroller. “Do you want me to strap you in?”
Nathan kicked his feet. “Nooo, I said.”
“Shh, you’re going to wake Paul.” Marilyn removed the cellophane wrapper from a lollipop. Nathan grasped it in his dimpled hand. “Now stop leaning forward before you break your neck!” She rose and blew out a long breath. “Want me to take over?”
Jess shook her head. “I like pushing the kids.” She smiled at a passerby. Being mistaken for the boys’ mommy wasn’t so bad either. Only the Lord knew if she’d ever experience the real thing. She leaned over the handlebars. “Want to see the monkeys?”
Nathan popped up and down in his seat, stopping once to eye Marilyn dolefully.
“I guess that means yes.” Jess laughed, pushing the stroller uphill and listening to her friend crack peanuts between her teeth. “This is a nice day, Marilyn. Why haven’t we done this more often?”
“I don’t know. First it was lousy weather; then you working double shifts. I guess we both got too busy. But this summer we’ll make a point of—oh, boy.”
“What?” Scowling, Jess stopped and examined Marilyn’s whitish face. “What? I bet you broke a tooth on one of those stupid peanuts.”
“Um. . .not exactly.” Marilyn stared down at the spent shells in her cupped hand. “Maybe we’ve had enough of the zoo today.”
“What? We haven’t seen the monkeys yet.” Jess tried to catch Nathan’s attention to assist in her protest, but he was totally absorbed in his red lollipop. Planting her fist on her hip, she shot Marilyn a look. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Let’s rest for awhile.” Marilyn meandered toward the park bench and lowered herself to the seat.
Jess followed, her heart speeding up. “You’re not having pains or anything, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m only a few months’ pregnant.” Marilyn snorted a laugh. “Like I’m going to give birth in the middle of Central Park.”
Dropping down beside her, Jess felt her stomach pitch. “Something is wrong though. Tell me.”
Marilyn glanced around, then shook her head. “I’d rather not say.”
A brisk wind rustled through the maples. Jess shivered. She scanned the winding trail, now clogged with noisy park-goers. Her gaze settled on a twosome standing in front of a cage, their backs to her. As her brain registered the sight, her breath stopped. It dawned suddenly that her jaw was hanging open.
Closing her mouth, she swallowed past the dryness in her throat, then looked at Marilyn. “It’s—it’s Tom and. . .” Heather Webster.
“Yeah, I know.” Marilyn cleared her throat. “I think we should go in the other direction. Take the high road, so to speak.”
“Don’t be silly!” Jess stood, adjusting her beige chinos, which, she was thankful, concealed her shaky legs. “I have to at least say hello.”
Tom was a friend—a free agent. And if she had harbored any suspicion that he ever saw her as a real female, she could safely put the thought to rest right this second. For all their jaunts in the park, they’d never been wrapped in such an intimate embrace. Before her eyes stood the difference between love and in love.
A shiver snaked up her spine, and a teary feeling washed over her. Heather didn’t suit Tom at all. Toying with the hem of her sweatshirt, Jess bit her lip. If she said anything to warn Tom away from Heather, she’d sound like a catty, jealous, thirty-two-year-old woman whose chances for marriage and children were fast slipping away. She crossed her arms and looked at Marilyn.
“You can go over and say hello.” Marilyn wiggled her foot, a habit clearly indicating her distress. “But I’m staying right here.”
Straightening her shoulders, Jess assessed the lovebirds again. Heather’s tentacles were wrapped around Tom, her adoring gaze glued to his face. Like a fast-deflating balloon, bravado seeped from her limbs. If body language were a barometer, she’d be intruding by acknowledging the two. Opting to remain invisible, Jess swallowed hard and tilted her chin.
Tom had always had a hands-off approach with her. She should be celebrating—instead of standing around pining that she wasn’t his type. His brotherly love toward her made for a perfect friendship.
But today she would give anything to know she was somebody’s type.
Jess loosened her white-knuckled grip on the stroller handle. Enough of wanting to feed her needy ego. “You know—you’re right. Maybe it’s best if we leave right now.”
Marilyn sprang to her feet. “You don’t have to ask twice.”
Jess steered the stroller eastward toward the exit. “I would’ve said hello.” To her dismay, her voice quivered. “I just didn’t want to make Tom feel uncomfortable.”
“Monkeys, monkeys,” Nathan whined, as if sensing the growing distance between him and the hairy creatures.
“Not today,” Marilyn reasoned in a soft voice. “Who’s going to hear the end of this?” She rolled her gaze heavenward. “We’ll come back another day and—”
“Wait a second.” Jessica stopped in midstep. “This is ridiculous. We’re not going to deprive Nathan of seeing the monkeys just because—” She did an about-face, ignoring Marilyn’s wide-eyed expression. Just because Tom had forgotten she was alive since he’d met Heather. She let her gaze slide their way. Tom and Blondie were chatting amiably, blissfully unaware of her presence. “We’re going to see the monkeys right now, Nathan. Okay?”
“We don’t have to do this, Jess. Maybe we shouldn’t.” Marilyn kept her head down. “Maybe Tom won’t see us.”
Tom turned slightly, as if to mock her friend’s words. His dark gaze met hers. Jess’s breath caught as she acknowledged his smile.
Heather twisted around in an apparent effort to scout out what or who had captured Tom’s attention.
“Oh, boy,” Marilyn whispered.
“Hi, there!” Jess forced cheer into her voice. She took a few bold steps toward the lovebirds.
“Jess.” Still smiling, Tom closed the remaining distance between them, the wind tousling his golden-brown hair. “And, Marilyn, how are you?” Tom gestured to his companion. “You remember—”
“Heather.” Under the circumstances, a smile would be appropriate. But hard as she tried, none would come. “Nice to see you again.”
Heather’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. Her gaze immediately returned to Tom’s face.
Jess’s pulse quickened. Now here was a lady who preferred she didn’t exist. But like it or not—she did. And she knew Tom long before Heather sauntered into the picture.
“I’d shake your hand,” Marilyn said, though Heather hadn’t offered hers. “But�
�” Holding her palms upward, she produced as evidence the peanut shell residue.
“What have you been up to, Marilyn? I didn’t see you in church last Sunday.” Tom stooped in front of the stroller. “Hey, Nathan.”
“Monkeeees.” Nathan shoved his lollipop in front of Tom’s nose.
“No, thanks.” Tom laughed, ruffled his hair, and stood.
“Paul had a fever last Sunday.” Shifting from one foot to the other, Marilyn adjusted her ponytail. “Lord willing, we’ll be in church tomorrow.”
“Tom.” Heather cleared her throat and gave her watch a cursory glance. “Should we get going?”
“Sure, fine.”
Jess gritted her teeth. Men could be so blind, but this was ridiculous. Why didn’t he just let Heather walk him on a leash?
Tom lifted his hand in a farewell gesture. “Heather’s got to catch a plane in a couple of hours, so—”
“We have to be off anyway,” Jess interjected, her voice overly merry to her own ears. “Monkeys and all that.”
After a quick exchange of good-byes, she left Marilyn at the helm of the stroller. A rush of adrenaline propelled her forward, away from the source of the ache in her heart.
“Wait up.” Marilyn’s voice came from behind her.
Jess stopped and glanced over her shoulder, past her friend, to Tom’s departing form. She could yell, “Wait!” But wait for what? So she could attempt to explain the inexplicable?
A wheezing Marilyn stood beside her. “What was that?”
That was Tom. The man she assumed would be in her life forever. The man she had most likely taken for granted, at least compared to Heather, who looked like she adored him. “What do you mean?”
Marilyn’s lips twisted in a sneer. “Get real.”
Jess stared straight into her big, questioning eyes and shrugged. “I don’t know.” She put her hand to her stomach. “I feel as if the Lord just threw me a curve ball.”
“Come on—don’t be pinning this on God.” Marilyn knelt beside the stroller, tucked the blanket around Paul, and handed him a bottle. “Tom is nice looking, isn’t he?”
“Who said he wasn’t?” Jess bristled. “Regardless”—she waited for Marilyn to meet her gaze—“it looks as if he’s met the woman of his dreams.”
And my nightmares.
Five
Jess emerged from a dark tunnel, her heart drumming hard against her ribs. Sitting forward, she wrestled free of her comforter and reached for the clanging alarm clock on the nightstand.
“Okay, okay,” she whispered, snapping down the button. She replaced the clock, then quickly pulled the covers to her neck. This time the dream had left tears on her face and a feeling of dread squarely in the pit of her stomach.
She tuned her senses to the gurgling pigeons inching along her windowsill and the traffic noises ten stories below. Her breaths slowed as blessed reality edged out the residual panic.
Easing her legs over the side of the bed, she sat with her palms flat against the crumpled sheets, squinting at the sun’s rays slanting through the venetian blind slats, patterning the wooden floor. She shifted her gaze to the ticking alarm. The white phone stood beside it—silent.
If Tom didn’t call by eight o’clock on Sunday mornings, chances were he wouldn’t phone at all. Tom. What was he doing invading her slumber?
Jess pushed her sleep-tangled hair from her face. Snippets of the nightmare returned. When Tom said, “I love you,” a dark, nameless thing, which Tom couldn’t see, shook the floor and rattled her free of him. He mistakenly believed she was pushing him away.
But what about Tom’s whispered kiss? Jess pressed her fingers to her still-tingling lips. She pulled in another deep breath. No sense probing the recesses of the subconscious,only to rouse sleeping pit bulls.
Jess stood and meandered to the window on rubbery legs. “I’ll get to church on my own.” She tugged the venetian blind cord to welcome more light into the room, but it lengthened to the floor in a crash. “Great!” She shoved aside the dangling window covering with her bare foot, turned, and strode to the bathroom in the foyer.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, she adjusted the faucets, wriggling her fingers under the gushing water to the tune of her growing impatience. A surge of anger rose in her chest. Only her Christian witness kept her from beating her bare fists against the bathroom wall. She stared at the big gray tile, eyes narrowed. Her neighbor must be enveloped in steam at that moment; he just had to be scheduling his bath times to coincide with hers. Maybe if she had a man around to challenge her landlord, she’d get more consideration.
Jess’s shoulders sagged in defeat. She twisted the handles to the off position. “Fine.” She wouldn’t go to church today. It wasn’t as if anybody would miss her anyway. She grabbed her toothbrush, drew a straight line of paste across the bristles, and commenced scrubbing with a vengeance. The Lord promised He’d be with her wherever she went. Today she’d do her devotions at home.
She returned to her bedroom and swiped the Bible off the desk. Marilyn and a few other friends might miss her, but certainly not Tom. Not after what she witnessed in the park yesterday.
Dropping into the chair, she rested the Bible on her lap and opened it to the book of Proverbs. Talk about saintly patience. Jess smoothed her hands over the padded armrests. The lilac material, silky against her skin, dragged her thoughts back to one of their days together.
Tom had spent hours traipsing through antique shops to help her search for the perfect accompaniment to her French country desk. When it came to her whims, Tom’s uncomplaining kindness mirrored her father’s. And now it seemed they were both out of her reach. The memories threatened to loosen the latch on the door to stored sorrows.
Jess forced her gaze back to the Bible. Best to keep that room bolted. She scanned the words highlighted in yellow, though she knew them by heart.
“Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart: so doth the sweetness of a man’s friend by hearty counsel.”
Proverbs 27:9
The day she’d first read the verse, the Scripture reminded her of Tom’s friendship and good counsel. They were all of eighteen when she’d whispered her revelation to Tom. He smiled and said the ointment and perfume part reminded him of her because she smelled so good. Feeling their oats, they had the audacity to giggle in Mr. Baylor’s Bible class. The ancient teacher paused, studying them from under gray bristly brows. But Tom had taken full blame for finding humor in the Good Book, which meant a Saturday of his scrubbing the schoolhouse’s wooden floors in repentance.
That was Tom. Always trying to save her hide or rescue her. And he’d probably had enough of it. Perhaps Heather wouldn’t be so much work. In all likelihood, Tom was ready for a woman who returned his gestures with appreciation.
Jess cleared her throat and readjusted her frame against the carved chair back, but a familiar presence settled over her, prompting her to action more than offering comfort.
There’s no sin in praying and reading the Word in my room. Jess flipped through the Bible pages, even knowing the futility of looking busy to impress God. Why can’t I sit here and relax?
No response.
“Okay, Lord. I don’t know why You want me there, but—” Jess snapped the Bible closed, stood to her feet, and headed for the shower.
Turning the handle to the max, she crossed her arms, waiting for the miracle she knew wouldn’t come—hot water. She sighed and, armed with a deep breath, eased one foot into the tub. Her skin bloomed with goose bumps as she hopped in the rest of the way, gasping as the icy spray numbed her skin.
The absurdity of her predicament hit. She got up every morning to do battle with an absentee landlord, which necessitated talking to herself and included a strong desire to pummel her next-door neighbor.
Jess flicked her gaze to the wall. Poor guy. Flipping his key chain as he whistled his way to the elevator, he was most likely oblivious to her existence—let alone the fact that her bath time included plotting the demise
of his lease.
“What’s wrong with me?” Listening for the Lord’s still, small voice, her own dizzying thoughts drowned out whatever He might want to communicate. Part of the answer lay on the surface of her half-frozen brain. In order to achieve her goal of becoming an ace chef, she had to put her personal life on hold.
Well, starting tomorrow, she would make every effort to plan a date with at least one online candidate. What’s the worst that could happen? So maybe she’d encounter a few duds along the way. Better than growing into an eccentric old woman who wore too much rouge for her own good.
Jess slammed off the faucet and hopped out of the tub. She slipped on her white terry robe and wrapped it tightly around her. Shivering, she returned to her room, opened the closet door, and pulled out her long, black skirt.
A lot of single women blossomed, even thrived, without a husband or children. But she was not one of those women. She yanked her white silk blouse off the hanger, paused, and studied the evidence in her hand. Why this outfit? Because Tom said she looked great in it? Bad idea.
Jess tossed the blouse on the bed, hastily unzipped her skirt and climbed out of it. She scanned her overflowing closet for a garment that wouldn’t scream desperation and settled on her blue cotton dress.
Her craziness had started when she’d seen Tom with Heather in Flavors. If she didn’t watch her step, she’d turn into Juan’s ex-wife.
Jess slid her dress over her head. Too bad she’d overheard Juan’s sad commentary to one of the waiters. He said his ex didn’t want him and didn’t want anybody else to have him. Perish the thought!
Jess plugged in the blow-dryer, flipped her hair forward, and let the warm air travel over her neck. She couldn’t possibly be so petty. Tom deserved a wife who would make him happy. Very happy. But just not Heather. Heather Webster was all wrong for him. So why couldn’t he see that? And in telling him, would Tom believe her, or would she only succeed in breaking his heart?
Pulling the dryer away from her hair, she held her breath. The doorbell? She snapped off the noisy device and waited. The sound of the buzzer traveled to her ears like a symphony.
