The Forget Me Not Pact (The Secret Author Series, #1.4)

by M. J. Padgett

  “It’s not nearly as good as yours,” she claimed, but it wasn’t about how good the painting was, it was about letting go and letting your soul shine onto the canvas. Claire was a mousy woman, not unlike me, the first few months out of the hospital. If it weren’t for Angela, my nurse, supporting me, I might never have left it.

  Telling Jordan not to return was the hardest thing I’d done since walking away from him the first time. It was the right thing to do. It’s what I would have wanted Becky to do if the situation had been reversed. I knew it hurt him, and I knew he was crying when he swiftly walked away, but I also knew in my gut I’d done the right thing for both of us.

  I gave up a lot that day. No one in the world could love me the way Jordan had, so I resigned myself to building the non-profit center for abused women and children along with Angela. I’d die old and alone—or maybe with a dozen or so cats—but that was okay with me. My work was fulfilling, and I knew exactly how each woman felt who walked through those doors. Once stable and fierce, they lost sight of who they were after getting tangled up with the wrong kind of men—or women, as the case sometimes was.

  “You’re doing wonderfully, Claire. Keep it up, and yours will be better than mine in no time.” I smiled at her and moved on to the next woman, checking over her work and giving her tips and encouragement.

  I had no idea I knew how to paint until I got bored one day and picked up a brush. I was shocked when the finished product actually looked like what I had pictured, and even more shocked that the hospital I’d stayed in bought it! It was that day Angela approached me about her idea to open a shelter. She’d considered it for some time, but never had the time to put into it.

  As the class drew to a close, and the women trickled out, the front door chimed, and I heard Angela speaking. Hearing the warning chime of the front door gave me mixed feelings every time. On the one hand, it meant one more woman was walking away from an abusive situation, willing to fight to get her life back. On the other hand, it said one more woman had been abused to begin with.

  I started clearing the supplies and putting them in their proper places, then wiped down the tables and put the chairs back under them. Once the room was straight and orderly, I pulled my own canvas from the corner. I lifted the cover and stared at it, carefully considering my next step. I had a little difficulty remembering it exactly as it was since it had been so long since I’d seen the topic of the painting.

  I tilted my head to the side and observed it, the tall tower with the old clock at the top, a little worn and ragged, surrounded by the chain-link fence. I always got a little lightheaded when I thought of that old clocktower where I used to meet Jordan. It was a difficult painting for me, but I often encouraged the woman in my care to paint the parts of their lives that were pivotal, the things that changed the course and made a lasting impression on them. The clocktower certainly had done that for me.

  I sighed and covered it again. I’d have to take a little trip to see if it was still there and soak in the details. I put the canvas back and pulled out another. I’d only begun the rough work, but it was coming together nicely. I hated myself for painting him, but it always made me smile at the end of an exceptionally long day.

  I stared at the canvas, Jordan’s bright eyes staring back at me. I dabbed the brush in the paint, but I couldn’t decide where to begin again.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten me already?”

  I spun around, shocked to find Jordan standing behind me. “Jordan?”

  He cracked a smile, then said, “The tower was beautiful. Just how I remembered it.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, equal parts excited and worried. He wasn’t part of my life anymore. I’d come to terms with that and moved on... mostly. Clearly painting him and our clock tower were good signs I was not moving on as much as I liked to think I was, but I was trying.

  “Can I sit?” he asked, his boyish smirk plastered on his face. I nodded, so he sat in the chair across from me. He cleared his throat and said dove right into the reason he’d come.

  “I came for you. I love you, Dana, and I’m not leaving here until we talk about it.”

  I dropped my paintbrush, splattering green paint all over my face in the process. Jordan chuckled and reached across the table to wipe it away. I let him do it, and all of a sudden, the feel of his hands on my face sent me back to a grocery store parking lot.

  My eyelids fluttered, my entire body succumbing to his touch. I leaned into it, terrified I was dreaming. A million thoughts flooded my mind. He’s married... This can’t be real... You’re setting yourself up for failure if you think this is anything but a dream... Don’t give in, be strong... You’re moving on, don’t get caught up in an affair.

  “Dana,” his soft voice called. “Please look at me. Let me see those gorgeous blue eyes I’ve dreamed about every night since I was seventeen.”

  My eyes instinctively opened at his words causing him to smile. I immediately noted there was no wedding ring, but I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. I felt guilty that I was giddy, but I couldn’t stifle my happiness either. Was he really there, or had I fallen asleep at the art table?

  “Jordan?”

  He chuckled again. “I’m pretty sure we made a pact to never forget one another, but it seems you’ve gone and forgotten everything.”

  “I don’t understand what’s happening right now. I’m sincerely concerned I’ve either lost my mind, or I’m dreaming. Or maybe I died. I can’t say for sure.”

  His wide grin dipped into dimples, and for the first time in ages, I saw the sweet face I fell in love with when I was sixteen. He stood and offered me his hand.

  “Come on, let’s go take a walk. I have a lot to tell you, and I’m hoping when I’m done, you’ll let me take you to dinner?”

  All I could do was nod and let him lead me out the front door as Angela smiled behind me.

  Day 4075

  Jordan

  “I’M GOING ON A TRIP. Call it a rebirth if you will, but I’m going to see what’s out there in the world. I’d ask you to come with me, but I know Angela needs you here. I also know this is something I need to do on my own to reset my brain if that makes any sense,” I said, but I knew I was confusing the snot out of her.

  “Okay,” Dana said, then asked, “And what happened to Becky? Eight months ago, I thought you were happily married.”

  “Married, yes. Happily, no. It’s my fault, not hers. Well, Becky says it’s no one’s fault, but she’s just a really great person. I was lucky to have her in my life for almost six years, but we never should have gotten married.”

  “I’m so confused right now. Are you saying... What exactly are you saying?” Dana asked. She stopped and pulled me to a stop beside her. I knew we were walking toward her apartment, and I hoped she would allow me to come in and continue to talk with me for... oh, ever and ever. I knew we couldn’t pick right up where we left off, but I wanted her to know my heart had always been hers.

  I sighed, knowing I was too excited about the future to explain everything to her properly. “Well, we had a good run, but we weren’t the best fit. Becky wanted different things from life than I did, namely a man who, and I quote, ‘can love me the way you love Dana Franklin.’”

  Her eyes went wide, and her jaw fell open. “You mean I’m the reason your marriage failed? Oh no, that’s not what I wanted at all! Jordan, I’m... I’m so sorry. I thought sending you away was a good thing, that maybe she would—”

  “Shh... It’s okay.” I couldn’t stand to see her worried. I also couldn’t stand watching her, green flecks of paint splattered all over her beautiful face, and not kiss her. I leaned in, and she paused, but she didn’t pull away. She was frozen solid, but not necessarily objecting.

  I leaned in more, and she met me halfway. Oh, how I had missed the way she felt. Her lips were just as soft and tender as I remembered, and she sighed her cute little sigh and gripped my shirt in the same place she always had. I kissed h
er until I couldn’t breathe. I would have taken a breath and kissed her again if she had let me.

  She pushed me away slightly and looked around. Her face flushed bright red, and I realized I’d embarrassed her in public. I took her hand and held it against my chest.

  “Dana, it wasn’t your fault. It was never you. It was always about Becky and me and how we got caught up in something that wasn’t as real as we thought it was. Honestly, there are no hard feelings between her and me, and she doesn’t think anything bad about you. You don’t have to worry. She’s happily traipsing around Europe searching for who knows what, but she did make me promise one thing.”

  Her eyes studied mine, waiting patiently. When she couldn’t wait any longer, she smacked my chest and asked, “Well, what is it?”

  “She made me promise if I could get you back, I’d never let you go again. Can you help me keep that promise, Dana?”

  I’d shocked her into oblivion. She just stood watching me as if I were a figment of her imagination. I remembered what she’d said in the shelter studio. She thought she was dreaming or dead, and I chuckled again.

  “This is real, Dana. I’m really here, and I’m begging you to let me into your life again. We can go slow, take our time, and get to know each other again. I don’t care how long it takes, I just want to have you again. Please, please, Dana.”

  She smiled and giggled. Gosh that giggle, it hit me right in the gut. I’d do just about anything to hear her laughter.

  “My apartment is a few blocks down. I’ll cook dinner, and we can talk about how this will work. Is that okay?”

  “It’s more than okay.” I offered my hand, and she took it without hesitation, allowing our clasped hands to gently swing between us. It felt so good to be there with her, just walking down the street toward her apartment with an entire future filled with possibility ahead of us. I knew there would probably be more bumps, but there was no way I would let her get away again. Never.

  When we reached her apartment, I followed her up the front steps and held the glass door open while she fumbled with her keys.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I just realized I haven’t... I mean, it’s been a long time since I let a man in my house. I know it’s just you, but—”

  I took her shaking hands in mine. “Dana, it’s okay. You feel how you feel, and that’s okay. If it’s too much, then we can go get dinner, or we can talk over the phone. I’ll do whatever you want, at your pace.”

  She steadied herself and took a few breaths. “It’s you, and I know that no matter how much time passes, you’re still you. I’m safer with you than I’ve ever been with anyone, even my own parents. Come in. I’ll just go change then start dinner.”

  I nodded and slowly followed her in. I hated treating her like a child or a wounded animal, but I knew how fragile she was. I pondered how any one person could be both the strongest in the world, yet so vulnerable at the same time. Dana was strong, no doubt about it. She always had been, and I’d admired that about her since the day I met her. But she was also weak and breakable, which I learned the hard way when she left me.

  “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, pulling my attention from the sparse furniture that dotted the apartment. It was minimalist, to say the least, but attractively so. She had only one photograph sitting on the fireplace mantle. It was us. Seeing that one photo made everything okay.

  “Yeah, water would be good, thanks,” I mumbled as I looked at the photograph.

  “Jordan?” she asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “Please don’t leave,” she said faintly.

  I tore my attention from the photo to look at her, frail and shaking right beside me. “Dana, what’s wrong, baby?”

  “I’m so scared you’ll walk out the door and never come back. I can’t do this anymore, Jordan. I can’t keep having you pop into my life only to have you taken away again. Please, please, just don’t leave.”

  I engulfed her in my embrace and rocked her until her crying stopped. She made me cry, too, because she was so upset. I knew exactly how she felt.

  “I’m never leaving you again, Dana. Never, ever.” I kissed the top of her head a dozen times, noting she still used the same shampoo.

  “Stay here with me. Don’t leave, please,” she begged, and I finally realized what she was asking—I thought.

  “You mean tonight? Stay with you here tonight?”

  She nodded against my chest, then said, “And tomorrow night, and the next, and the next—just stay, Jordan, please.”

  “I’ve already purchased plane tickets, Dana. I really think I need to take this trip, but I swear to you, once I’m finished with everything, I will come right back here to you and only you. I promise with my whole heart and soul. I swear it, Dana.”

  “I’m scared,” she whimpered.

  “Don’t be scared. Don’t be afraid anymore. Be the strong girl I met when we were kids, and just hold on for a few months. I’ll come back to you, I promise. I’ll even move my crap in here before I leave if it’ll make you feel better.”

  She chuckled, then said, “If you promise not to bring that awful multi-colored blanket with you.”

  I laughed, remembering it was the first thing I burned when I went on a purge of things that reminded me of her. Then she said, “I once left because I needed to find myself again. I was depressed, and maybe I went about it all wrong, but the fact remains that I understand what you have to do. So, go on your trip, but promise me something?”

  “Name it, anything you want,” I said, and I meant it.

  “When you get back, don’t ever, ever let me go again.”

  I leaned in and kissed her again, sealing a promise I had every intention of keeping.

  Day 4225

  Dana

  I GROANED AS I ROLLED over in the bed, but it was just as uncomfortable a position as I was in before. My gigantic belly was always in the way, and I still had a couple more months to go. I glanced at the clock. I still had four hours before I had to pick Jordan up from the airport, so I tried to get a little more sleep.

  It was useless. Every time I closed my eyes, the little one would roll or kick, causing a flurry of flutters in my belly. I gazed down at the monstrous lump under the blankets and smiled. Jordan had yet to see how much it had grown since he left, and boy would he be surprised.

  He tried to convince me he wanted to stay home and forgo his travels, but the truth was, I needed the time to wrap my mind around us being together again. It felt too good to be true, and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It didn’t, thank goodness, but it took a little time for both of us to accept that we could relax and be happy again.

  Jordan’s travels had been good for him. He started to see he was more than just some guy who was lucky to have wonderful women in his life. He realized there was so much more under the surface, that he, too, was a wonderful person. It was all I ever wanted him to see, and when he finally understood, it was like a lightbulb flickered on. He changed but in good ways. Our late-night phone conversations lasted for hours, and we reconnected in ways we never would have if he stayed home.

  I changed, too. I was stronger and happier than I’d been in ages, probably not since I was a teenager. I was independent again, and I knew I didn’t need anyone else to take care of me. The fact that Jordan was in my life again made me confident enough to take a step back to see that. The shelter was doing well, and we planned to expand into a neighboring city. We were helping women and children, even a few men, who had experienced horrific things in their lives, to realize they were worth fighting for.

  I groaned in the bed and sat up, already tired. The little man was taking a lot out of me, but I refused to let Jordan know that. He was coming home soon, and all would be well. I rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom to see how much I’d gained overnight. It felt like I was growing out more every day.

  I busied myself around the house, but I was too anxious. I decided to put my energy into painting, and that�
��s exactly what I was doing when the front door flew open, and Jordan walked right in as if he hadn’t been gone for months.

  “Jordan!” I squealed and ran—hobbled—to him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Wow... look at that,” he said, pointing to my huge belly. He chuckled then took me in his arms. I’d missed him so much, and being right where I was always supposed to be felt right again. “I wanted to surprise you, but boy, if I’m not the one surprised. You said you were growing, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so... uh... You know, you look beautiful, baby.”

  “Wise man,” I said, chuckling, though I knew I was a walking walrus in heels. “I’ve been pacing the floor waiting to pick you up. This is the best surprise ever.”

  “I beg to differ. You still haven’t told me if this little monster is a boy or a girl. It’s been torture, Dana. You have to tell me. I am the father, after all,” he said as if there was ever anyone else in the world I’d want to have children with.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll go get the ultrasound photos.” I hobbled down the hall toward the bedroom, but a stabbing pain stopped me. “Oh!”

  Jordan was by my side in an instant, but the pain didn’t subside. I tried not to panic, but given my track record with luck, I couldn’t help it. I started breathing fast and shallow, which only made the pain worse. Jordan helped me to the bed then called an ambulance, also not willing to take any chances with our fate.

  “It hurts so bad,” I cried, but it wasn’t the kind of pain I’d expected. If I was in early labor, or worse, losing the baby, I’d have cramping higher up. This was under my belly, almost as if my body was trying to rip in two.

  “I know, baby. I know,” he whispered as he brushed my hair from my face. “It’s going to be okay. Let’s talk about something else to try to distract you.”

  “You can’t distract me from my body trying to rip in half, Jordan!”