by JoAnn Durgin
“You have my word and I hope you’ll forgive me for hurting her. I’m sorry, Mitch. If she’ll allow me, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her.”
Mitch thumped the edge of the table with his palm. “In spite of her better judgment, she’s probably already forgiven you. She’s trying to . . . absorb it all.”
A glimmer of hope surged inside him. “Any suggestions to get back in her good graces?”
“First, humble yourself. Two, beg her forgiveness but back off and give her the time she needs. If you ask me, that’s what she needs as much as anything else.”
“Already done, and I’m trying my best to be patient. What else you got?”
Mitch chuckled. “If and when she starts to come around and trust you again, kiss her stupid so she won’t have any choice but to love you back, you idiot.”
His brows rose. “Now you’re calling me an idiot?”
“Sure am.” Mitch shrugged. “Seems to fit.”
“Well,” Landon said, “there’s a big difference between an idiot and a fool. Given the two, I’ll take the former.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the difference?”
“An idiot does something stupid, but a fool runs away. You won’t catch me running away. I’m more determined than ever to get Amy back. She’s worth fighting for and I intend to do it.”
“Then it’s a no-brainer the way I see it,” Mitch said.
Landon’s mind spun in a hundred different directions. “You gonna tell me?”
“What, has love blinded you?” Mitch shook his head. “That first night she met you, Amy told me how brilliant you are as a writer. She couldn’t stop waxing poetic about you and used words like ‘insightful’ and ‘thought-provoking.’ Amy doesn’t hand out praise like that lightly, especially when it comes to other writers, but don’t get your head all puffed up about it.” Mitch’s shoulders hunched as he leaned across the table. “Time to do what you do best. Use your words.”
Mitch’s suggestion was better than anything he’d come up with on his own. Taking his advice sure couldn’t hurt. No one knew Amy better than her brother. As if he needed a reminder, his jaw ached like he’d been pummeled by a middleweight boxer. The guy packed a hard punch and he’d have a decent bruise as a constant reminder over the next week or two, but he’d deserved it.
“Thanks, Mitch.” Rising to his feet, he offered his hand. “Are we straight?”
“Yep, but if you ever do it again—”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Pray I can go write the most brilliant and persuasive essay of my life.”
Mitch stood beside the table and pumped his hand. “Don’t worry about making it brilliant, make it real. Tell her what’s on your heart. I’ll give you one more key piece of advice.”
Landon nodded. “Anything.”
“We’re going home to see our mom in Pennsylvania for Christmas and coming back on Friday the twenty-seventh. They’re having a holiday in-between dinner and special end-of-the-year prayer meeting at Amy’s church on that Saturday night. Seems to me she might be helping serve the dinner and then she’ll probably attend the special prayer meeting.” A wry grin creased his lips. “She’ll be less inclined to rant or pound you if you talk to her in church.”
Mitch was a good guy. Smart, too. “Thanks. I owe you one, but what’s an in-between dinner?”
“In-between Christmas and New Year’s.” Hesitating, he turned back with a wry grin. “I understand you’ve got a Cessna.”
Landon slapped a hand on his shoulder, allowing a small grin. “I’ll consider letting you use it sometime. See you later, Mitch, and that’s a promise.”
“Sure thing. Merry Christmas.”
Landon nodded, swallowing around the tight, hard knot in his throat. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
~~**~~
“Hear ye, hear ye. The Court is called to session, the Honorable Joshua Grant presiding.”
Amy sat, wide-eyed and speechless, as Josh paraded into Sam’s study wearing what resembled a black choir robe. Stealing a glance at Landon where he sat on the opposite side of the desk, she saw the corners of his mouth quirk and he shot her a quick wink before returning his full attention to Josh sitting in the massive black leather chair behind Sam’s desk. Sam apparently had the good sense not to participate in this . . . whatever it was.
Josh lowered a heavy wooden gavel on the desktop with great care. “Court is now in session. Who is the defendant who comes to plead this case?” He nodded toward the back of the room where Winnie stood inside the door beside Lexa. Both avoided looking at her.
“Landon Cooper Jared Warnick comes before the Court, your Honor,” Winnie said, infusing her voice with a kittenish tone. “Did I get all the names in the right order?” That question was directed at Landon, and he gave her a solemn nod.
Amy turned to look at Winnie, wide-eyed. This is insane.
Josh quirked a brow and laughed under his breath. “What is the charge against Mr. Warnick?”
After Lexa elbowed her, Winnie stepped forward. “Your Honor, Mr. Warnick is accused of fraudulent impersonation.”
Josh directed a stern glance Landon’s way. “Mr. Warnick, is this true?”
“Yes, your Honor, I’m afraid it is.”
“Whom did you impersonate?”
“Myself, your Honor.”
Josh scratched his head. “Oh. Okay. And how do you plead to this crime?”
“Unequivocally, undeniably, unrelentingly—”
“Spare me the adverbs. Journalists,” Josh muttered, half under his breath. “A simple guilty plea will do, Mr. Warnick.”
Landon sighed and his shoulders drooped. “Guilty as charged.”
“And would you like to claim a defense?”
“Love, your Honor.” Landon moved his hand over his heart. “I have no other plausible excuse for my behavior.”
“Plus a little temporary insanity thrown in for good measure?” Josh inclined his head toward him with a raised brow.
“If it works for you. I’m sure the victim would agree.”
“I see. Give me a moment.” Swiveling in the chair, Josh turned around, but Amy could see his shoulders shaking.
“Does your Honor need to take a short break?” Lexa asked, her tone tinged with humor.
“No, no,” Josh said, turning in the chair to face them again. “Your Honor was momentarily overcome by the magnitude of the heinous crime committed by this defendant. Now, then, let’s proceed. Mr. Warnick, please start by telling the Court why you did what you did to this woman we all know and love.” He ignored the snickers from the back of the room and his smile sobered as he fixed his eyes on Landon. “You don’t mess with TeamWork, and the deliberate deception of a TeamWork volunteer is punishable to the highest extent of the law. No mercy is given—”
“All right, all right, that’s enough! May I approach the bench, your Honor?” Amy jumped to her feet, unable to contain her exasperation with this ridiculous and unfounded proceeding. From the corner of her eye, she saw Landon straighten in his chair.
“Certainly. And you are?” The corners of Josh’s mouth upturned.
“The aforementioned TeamWork volunteer you all know and love?” She gritted her teeth. “Your Highness.”
Josh grinned. “Your Honor will suffice, but you sure are good for my ego.”
“State your name for the official Court record.” That request came from Winnie, but Amy kept her eyes trained on Josh. If she dared glance at her best friend, she’d probably fall to her knees and beg her to stop this madness.
“Amelia Madelyn Jacobsen, your Honor. The so-called ‘victim’ of Mr. Warnick’s impersonation, deception or whatever it’s officially called.” She stared Winnie down. “For the record.”
“Very well. What do you have to say to the Court, Miss Jacobsen?”
She took a few steps closer to the desk, fisting her hands and moving them down to rest on her hips. A quick perusal of the room revealed all eyes were focused on her.
Lexa and Winnie both leaned forward, straining to hear her words, as did Josh and Landon.
A slow smile curved her lips. “Tell me something. Where’s Sam Lewis when you really need him?”
~~**~~
“Okay, okay, I forgive you!” Amy woke up drenched in sweat. Based on the way her legs were tangled and wrapped in her sheets, she’d done a lot of thrashing about in the bed. Raising herself to a sitting position, she slapped a hand on her forehead.
Great. Now my daydreams are morphing into nightmares.
Chapter 42
Friday, December 20, 2002 —
New York Scene Editorial Offices
Landon chuckled the next morning when he heard a happy squeal “One, two, three . . .” he counted under his breath. Sure enough, the door opened and Dona rushed inside.
“Landon, look out, baby, I’m coming for you!” Dona moved faster than ever as she covered the office in seconds and reached the side of his desk. Flinging her arms around his neck, she planted a noisy smacker of a kiss on his cheek. “Hands down, you’re the greatest boss in the world, but why’d you do this?” Out of breath, she fanned the airline tickets and DisneyWorld passes in front of her, staring at them in wonder.
“Merry Christmas to the best assistant on the planet. It’s also a bonus for all your hard work this past year and always. I couldn’t do it without you.”
“I’d say it’s too much, but you know it’s my dream to go to DisneyWorld. Wait until I tell Pax. My hubby’s not going to believe this! Ohhh, it’s so exciting!”
“Wait a minute,” he said as she started to depart. Walking over to a small closet in the corner of his office, he paused with one hand on the door. “I have something else for you, too. Close your eyes.”
“Something else? Goodness, what more could there be? This is like my birthday, Christmas and anniversary all rolled into one!” Obediently, she closed her eyes as he reached into the closet. Her lips seemed creased in a permanent grin. “Should I hold out my hands?”
“Nope.” He placed the black cap with mouse ears on her head. “Open, please.”
Dona’s green eyes opened, her lashes fluttering. Putting her hand on her head, she moved her fingers over the felt cap and found one oversized, round ear. Tugging the felt hat from her head, she ran a finger over the red cursive script spelling out her name. “You even had my name embroidered.” A tear slipped down her cheek as she once more thrust herself into his embrace. “I don’t know what to say, Landon.”
Moving his arms around his dutiful assistant, he hugged her. “It’s all worth it for the look on your face and the hug. They’re open-ended passes, so go anytime. Go next week if you want.”
“Honey,” Dona said, planting a hand on her chest, still heaving a bit with excitement, “I might take you up on that offer. It might be twenty below zero and my bum’s frozen solid here in New York, but Florida here we come! I don’t know what to say except thank you forever.”
“You and Pax are going to have a ball. Take the rest of the day off to make your plans.”
“You sure?” She wiped away another tear and lifted eyes full of gratitude to his.
He waved his hand. “Go. I’m about to head out early myself.”
She paused, and her smile sobered. “I hate to ask, but when’s your last day in the office?”
“Officially, a week from today. I’m facing an uncertain future, but would you consider coming to work for a small, independent publisher?”
“Well, it’s about time you asked me!” When her hand slid to her hip, he chuckled. “You know I will, boss. New York Scene without Landon Warnick at its hub makes no sense, and it’s their loss. You know I stand behind you one hundred percent. That last piece you wrote is a great one, and I’m praying Miss Amy will see it and come running to your arms and never leave. I know that’s what I’d do.”
“Ah, Dona, you already have my heart.”
She gave him an impish grin as she turned to go. “I know, but it never hurts to remind a man. We’ll talk about the job and my salary when I get back. Toodles, love. You’re the best!” After blowing him another kiss, she clutched the tickets to her chest and dashed from the office.
~~**~~
The days leading up to Christmas were a blur of last-minute shopping as Amy prepared for the trip home to Pennsylvania with Mitch. Purchasing a pretty necklace and earring set for her sister, Amy smiled, knowing it would please Celeste. From their several Saturday mornings browsing in an antique book shop in SoHo in recent months, Amy called the store, hoping they still had the signed, first edition of Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad she knew Mitch secretly coveted. He’d be so pleased and surprised. She splurged, thanking her grandfather for that one since she dipped into the trust fund. Her mother was always the hardest to shop for since she seemed to have everything she needed and never expressed a want to any of her three children. She picked out a new freshwater pearl necklace with matching earrings and bracelet, but as much as anything, she knew her mother wanted to spend quality time with her. Much to her chagrin, other than a short phone call the night of the wedding, she hadn’t talked to her in ages.
On Christmas Eve night, after the service in their church, Amy sat beside her mother in the living room as they watched the fading embers in the fireplace. Mitch had retired to his room, presumably to call Felicity, Celeste to call her new boyfriend. While she relayed her story about Landon, her mother, Katherine, listened closely but thankfully didn’t pass judgment or criticize his actions. When she finished, Amy eyed her carefully. “Mom, tell me something. Was Dad perfect?”
Katherine laughed. “Of course, not, honey. What makes you ask?”
“Winnie thinks maybe I expect too much of a man because all the men in my life have been perfect. For one, you and I both know that brother of mine isn’t perfect.”
“I heard that and will hold it against you for the rest of my natural born life,” Mitch said, coming out of the kitchen with another slice of chocolate pecan pie and a glass of milk, headed for the stairs. She raised a brow when she saw he wore his old maroon Harvard Medical School sweats. He must have pulled those out of mothballs. “Night, ladies.”
“I think everyone has a fatal flaw—men and women—if you want to call it that,” Katherine said after they blew Mitch air kisses.
“What was Dad’s?”
“Probably that he expected too much of people.”
Amy smiled. “He did, didn’t he? But I shouldn’t think that’s a fatal flaw.”
“In a way it was because he expected the same of others as he did of himself, in terms of character. He was always disappointed.”
“What else can you tell me about Dad?” Pulling the afghan up over their laps, Amy snuggled closer to her mother, leaning her head on her shoulder as she used to do as a child.
Katherine kissed her forehead. “He cheated at Monopoly once and it took years for him to finally admit it to me.” She laughed when Amy mock-gasped. “He didn’t enjoy grocery shopping but he’d tolerate it if I asked him to go. And don’t tell anyone, but he didn’t really like old Mr. Grainger. But your father rarely said an unkind word about anyone. He helped out around the house without my asking and massaged my feet after a long day, even when I knew he was too tired. And,” she said, heaving a deep sigh, “when he knew he was dying, he held my hand and told me he’d miss meeting the wonderful mates you, Mitch and Celeste would marry, and all his grandchildren.” Her eyes misted, and she gave her a tremulous smile. “That made him sad, but he was ready to meet his Savior and knew we’d all be together again one day.”
Amy kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “Please don’t tell me he mentioned Felicity for Mitch,” she said, shaking her head.
Her mother’s laughter surprised her as they both wiped away a few sentimental tears. “No, he didn’t.” Katherine’s smile sobered and she tipped Amy’s chin. “As far as Landon, search your heart, honey, and pray. If he was here, your father would advise the same thing. Ask the Lord to g
ive you the answer. He knows your heart like no one else.”
~~**~~
Friday, December 27, 2002
Manhattan — Amy’s Townhouse
Feeling benevolent and in the spirit of Christmas cheer and giving, Amy decided to send Landon an e-mail. If nothing else, it would give her closure since she had some lingering questions.
Merry belated Christmas, Landon. Hope you’re well. Question: what was your first big mistake?
Curious Amy
A response came within the hour—
Dear Curious Amy,
Great to hear from you, and I trust your time with your family in Pennsylvania was relaxing and everything you’d hoped. The first mistake as Cooper was when I said something about Landon being a magazine publisher. You never said that specifically. Then I asked you the question about liking me as Cooper, which sounds very strange, in retrospect. Scratching my head here. I honestly thought you’d figure it out, we’d have a good laugh and get on our way. Maybe I’m a better actor than I thought? Then I realized you’d never think I was the same guy because why would anyone deceive you like that in the first place? A thousand times, I wanted to tell you, but I kept getting in deeper and selfishly, I couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let you go.
I have no excuses except I thought if I told you I was Landon—after misleading you—you’d never go with me to Austin. I can’t explain it except to say I needed you to go with me and, in spite of how it all turned out, I’m glad you did. I pray you don’t regret the entire thing because it was the best two and a half days of my life, Amy. Believe that. I’ll never forget it. Or you.
Fool for all time, LCJW
Two hours later, she was back in front of the computer again, unable to stop the stream of questions.
Dear Fool for all time,
I have another question, if you’re willing to answer. What’s the story with the scar? First of all, it is real, isn’t it? Do you keep it in a little box in your sock drawer with other trinkets and mementos? Something you take out and slap on whenever you feel like it?
