“No problem. You look terrific.” She had on a green, shiny dress that was definitely expensive. It looked custom made for her, and the asymmetrical front with frog closures gave it a subtly oriental flavor. Her hair was up, in the Grace Kelly look again. Would she know who Grace Kelly was?
He put out one finger and just touched the high collar of the dress. “Silk?” Immediately he wondered if he was being too familiar, but the fabric screamed to be touched.
“Y-yes. Do I pass the dress code?”
“You bet.” He wanted to shower her with lavish compliments, but she would squirm if he did. Somehow she had achieved glamour, and it was a far cry from the timid girl-next-door impression she’d given him and Eddie when they’d gone car shopping. He wished he’d bought her more flowers, dozens of showy, expensive flowers, and he wished he’d taken more trouble with his own appearance. He was wearing the same suit he’d worn the week before. He’d bought it ten years ago for his partner Chris’s funeral and kept it for best afterward.
She gave him a tremulous smile, and he reached for the sweater she held. It was a light, shimmery gold cardigan that rivaled her glinting hair. He held it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. A faint whiff of—was it lilacs?—something good—wafted up to him.
“So, how’d it go with Donna-jean’s mother?”
“Okay. She got most of the stuff Wednesday night, and I shipped the rest this morning.”
He nodded. “No hassles?”
“No. She was upset with me at first. I felt really bad, but…”
“They let her go yesterday.”
Jennifer’s eyebrows arched. “They did?”
“Yes. She had a hearing, and she’ll appear in court in a few weeks. Her record’s clean except for a couple of traffic tickets, so she’ll probably get a suspended sentence.”
“She hasn’t contacted me.”
“No, the judge told her not to.”
“Were you there?”
“Yes.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and he expected her to pepper him with more questions, but she didn’t.
“I feel so bad, Harvey.”
“I know.” He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s all right. I just don’t want you thinking you’re the bad guy here.”
“Well, you’re certainly not.”
“Hey, if you want to blame me, go ahead.”
“No. I won’t do that. You were right.” Her chin came up defiantly, and he had to smile.
“You know Donna-jean brought this on herself.”
Jennifer nodded. “I keep reminding myself of that. And she needs to face the consequences, but I shouldn’t have—” She broke off and shrugged. “I’ve got to quit analyzing it. Let’s go.”
He walked with her to the Explorer and opened the door for her. She smiled up at him, then looked away quickly. “Thanks.”
The shyness was still there, and it gave him more confidence. It didn’t seem logical, but he accepted it, along with all the other jumbled feelings Jennifer brought him.
When they entered the restaurant, he looked around in surprise. He hadn’t been there in years, and he knew without actually remembering it that his last visit there had been with Carrie. He should have chosen another spot.
Jennifer seemed somewhat intimidated by the atmosphere, and he thought the prices on the menu shocked her a little. He smiled to reassure her, and her anxious expression melted into a bright smile. Her mood seemed to have changed, and they talked easily while they waited for their food. He realized suddenly that he was very happy. He hadn’t expected it, ever again, but there it was.
The play at the university was funny, and well acted. Rosalind had the right touch, and good chemistry with Orlando. Phebe, the shepherdess, was an accomplished comic. Harvey tucked away her line, “Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?” for future contemplation. He wondered if he could hold Jennifer’s hand, and decided that was not in the script. But her eyes shone as she watched the actors.
It was chilly when they emerged from the theater at ten-thirty.
“I don’t want to take you home yet,” Harvey said as they walked toward the SUV. In the old days, he would have suggested a drink, but he’d kept his promise to himself since Carrie’s death and stayed away from alcohol. He didn’t want to relapse, and besides, the thought didn’t fit with Jennifer. “How about we stop for a soda?”
“That’s great.”
Harvey smiled. His chronic depression seemed to have lifted.
He hesitated as they approached his Explorer. “I hate to mention it, but I have to check the vehicle. I guess you know that.”
She nodded gravely.
“All right, it will only take a second. Just wait here.”
She stood in silence, watching him from several yards away. Part of him wanted to hurry, making it seem unimportant, so she wouldn’t be worried. Another part wanted to be extra careful, so he’d be certain she wasn’t in danger.
It was late, and there wasn’t much of a crowd at the Burger King. Harvey managed to get a table near the window where he could watch his Explorer, so he wouldn’t have to check under it again when they left. They sat across from each other, sipping Pepsi through plastic straws.
“I had fun tonight,” he told her.
“Really?” She looked up through her eyelashes. They were so long, he wished he had a caliper to measure them.
“Really. So, do I still owe you on conversation?”
She smiled ruefully. “I wish you’d forget about that.”
“I deserved it.” He stirred the ice in his cup with his straw, smiling. “So, any more questions?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Well, maybe.” The mile-long lashes swept her cheek. “Do you wear that gun everywhere?”
He chuckled. “Not in the shower.” She smiled, too. He would have made more jokes about wearing his gun on a date, but the incident with Donna-jean was too unfunny. “You just never know.”
She nodded. “Harvey, do you—” she hesitated, bouncing between assurance and insecurity again.
“Ask me anything,” he said in a low voice, and her eyes flickered.
“Do you think I’m too young for you, or you’re too old for me?”
He smiled a little and shook his head. “Maybe it’s the same thing. But, no, I don’t think you’re too young. As for me being too old, I guess if you think I am, then I am.”
“I don’t,” she said gravely.
“Well, neither do I.” They sat in silence for a moment, and he added, “I’ve always thought that the older you got, the less age mattered.”
She creased her paper napkin as she pondered that. “Is it immature to question my maturity?”
He laughed. “You got me. You know, some people claim there are advantages to a May-December romance.”
“You haven’t hit December yet! More like a May-August romance, don’t you think?”
Her gray eyes had a fire in them that ignited something in him, something he hadn’t felt for a long, long time. He reached for her hand.
“Jenny, you’re beautiful.”
A flush crept upward from the collar of her dress. She caught her breath and looked away.
“I’m sorry. I mean … not that I said it, but if I made you uncomfortable …”
Her gaze came back to his, and the blush deepened. “Doesn’t it bother you a little that I don’t remember the same things you do? It must be exasperating when you mention something, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Like the Howdy Doody Show or something.”
He smiled. He couldn’t remember Howdy Doody, either. “You mean like Grace Kelly? Do you know who Grace Kelly was?”
“Wasn’t she the one who married the prince of Monaco and died in a car wreck?”
“That’s right. See, you know more about my generation than you think.”
“But why Grace Kelly?”
He shrugged and tried to sound casual, but his pulse was gal
loping. “I thought you looked like her tonight. She wore her hair that way sometimes, and had elegant costumes.”
Jennifer seemed at a loss for a moment. “I’ve heard people say they can never forget where they were when they first heard that JFK was shot, or that men were walking on the moon—all these things that happened before I was born. I can’t relate to that. Doesn’t it bother you?”
“You remember other things. 911, for instance.”
She nodded.
He gave her his best smile, the irresistible one his mother had always given in for, and she smiled back. “If things continue in the way I’d like to see them go, we can make mutual memories, can’t we?”
“I like that thought.”
Intense feeling ambushed him. He was seeing a potential future for them. Was she seeing that, too, or was she looking back over the meager memories they had made together so far, all bittersweet and fragile? “Jenny, this can work. I know it can.”
She said softly, “You make it sound easy.”
Harvey watched her quizzically. She was young, and still a little wary of him. Maybe she wasn’t as ready as he was. “It just takes trust.”
Her face clouded. “That’s the hard part, isn’t it?” She reached for her purse. “We should probably get going.”
“All right.” He rose, slightly confused. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to trust him with her most private thoughts. But most of all, in that moment, he wanted to see her smile again.
He put her in the front seat of the Explorer, got in, buckled, and started the engine. Then he looked at her, across three feet of space.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. A tear hung on her long eyelashes, but she didn’t wipe it away, and he thought she didn’t want him to know she was crying.
“You sure?”
“Yes. It’s just …” She turned her face toward the side window. “I’m sorry.”
“Jennifer, I thought things were going well. If I said something that upset you, please tell me.”
She was silent. Her expression had been so open and soft one moment, so guarded the next. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket for his handkerchief and held it out to her. She took it and held it to her eyes.
“I’m sorry. You said a relationship takes trust.”
“It’s crucial. Do you think you could trust me?”
“I think I do, but …”
She didn’t offer an explanation. After waiting half a minute, he put the gearshift into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, heading for her house.
He felt helpless. This wasn’t just because of Donna-jean, or even the unseen threat of the bomber. She was dealing with something else, something that ran deep. He went over in his mind all of their conversations, especially tonight’s, looking for a gaffe on his part. He drove without speaking again until they reached her house. Her car sat in the driveway, and the house was dark.
He turned to her in the dimness.
“Jenny, I don’t understand, but I want to.”
She pulled in a deep breath. “Let’s just say I had a bad experience.”
“I’m sorry.”
She dabbed at her eyes. “I haven’t dated much lately because of it.”
“Well, it’s been a while for me, too. If I did something out of line, I wish you’d tell me.”
“No. No, you’ve been great.” She struggled to control her voice. “I know it’s not fair to you, but … the thing is, someone told me once to trust him.” She looked at him cautiously. He let the silence hang between them. Finally she said, “I found out I couldn’t.”
He nodded slowly. He was more than a little gun shy himself, but this was more than that. He wanted to go after the man who had hurt her. To take the memory out of her heart, the way he’d removed Donna-jean from her house.
He opened his door and got out, went around to her side, and walked her up to the door. She got her keys out, and he took them from her and opened the lock.
“Look, I—” She looked up at him and swallowed, then said in a rush, “Do you want to come in for a minute? I just—I don’t want to leave it this way.”
“Are you sure?”
She hesitated, looking into his eyes. “Yes.”
He touched the sleeve of her glittery sweater gently. “Only if you promise to tell me when you want me to leave. You say the word, and I’m gone.”
She nodded, and her gray eyes were huge.
He followed her in, feeling a bit displaced. What was it about her that made him willing to muddle through this emotional swamp? Deep inside him burned a conviction that he could make her happy given the chance, and that he would do everything in his power to make sure he never caused her to cry again.
They sat in silence on the sofa for a long minute. Jennifer’s breath came in shaky gulps. He wondered if she was still leery of being alone with him. The thought raised his protective streak. He wanted her to love him, but first he wanted her to feel safe.
“Jenny.” He reached over and took her hand.
“What?”
“If there’s something about me that makes you uncomfortable, let’s talk about it now. Don’t let it simmer.”
“No, there’s nothing.”
“Yes, there’s something.”
She bowed her head, and he took that as tacit agreement.
“Is it the fact that I’m a cop?”
“No.” She looked up at him quickly. “That’s a little scary in some ways. I keep trying not to think about how much danger you’re in, but … I think I can handle it.”
“Are you sure? Because for some women it’s just too hard.”
She looked directly into his eyes. “Was your wife that way?”
He nodded. “She never wanted me in this business. When we got married, I was planning to be a lawyer. But it wasn’t what I really wanted.” He sighed. He’d always felt a little guilty about it, but he couldn’t make himself want to be an attorney.
“You’re a good detective.”
He smiled. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Been checking up on me?” She laughed, and he squeezed her hand. “Something happened to you. Maybe a long time ago. It’s made you cautious with men.”
She gave a little nod. “You’re right, Mr. Holmes.”
“Can you tell me about it?”
“It’s not your fault. It just hit me when you said it, and I heard him so clearly, saying ‘trust me.’ I shouldn’t have let it bother me when you said that, but I did.”
He sat back. “It seems to me we both have some baggage from the past. If we’re going to make this work, I think we need to start from here, and just go on.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good. And if there’s anything else you want to know anything about me, I’ll tell you. Anything at all.”
“If you’re sure, there’s something that’s been bothering me.”
“Just ask, Jenny.”
He waited for the blow, and it came, as direct and piercing as he’d feared.
“Your wife. Did she leave, or did you? What happened?”
He sat silent for a minute, preparing himself. “She left me. Our marriage seemed like a good idea at the time, but things deteriorated fast. She was never happy with me. Even the first year, she wasn’t satisfied. I think she was hoping I’d change my mind and go back to law school. She didn’t like me going into the Academy. She didn’t like living in Maine. She didn’t like being married to a cop. She didn’t want children, and she ended up not wanting me. She left me after eight years, and three years later, she divorced me.”
“Was she unfaithful?”
“I think she was. I never looked for proof.”
“How about you?” Her voice was very small.
The weight on his spirit lightened. This was what she really wanted to know, and he could answer this question without regrets. He looked deep into her eyes. “No. Not during the whole time we were married, and even a
fter that. I tried to patch things up with her, but I guess I wasn’t very good at it. And she had already made up her mind.”
He waited. A tear rolled down her cheek, and remorse hit him. He’d done it again.
She wiped her eyes with his crumpled handkerchief. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Harvey.”
“Me, too. It wasn’t fun.”
“Do you still ... think about her?”
“Of course I do.”
“You told me she died not long ago.”
He nodded. “Suicide.”
She winced, and he wished he’d cushioned it a little. “We didn’t have any contact for the last ten years. Then her brother called me and told me she was dead. It was a shock, but …” He stood up, unable to face her for the moment. He walked over to her computer and stared at the Van Gogh print above it. Starry Night. It was full of bright, swirling balls of color that no one would really mistake for stars. Sort of like the churning, colliding memories that came back in a rush. That awful night, watching Chris die...the long hours at the police station...going home to find Carrie had left him. The worst night of his life.
He turned to face her. “It was almost a relief,” he confessed. “Not that I wanted her dead. Of course I didn’t want that. But it was a definite, unchangeable ending to that part of my life.”
She nodded. “Sometimes it’s better just to know when it’s really over.”
He felt his tension ebb and walked slowly back to the couch and sat down beside her. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
She shifted a little and put one hand up to her hair. “It seems almost trivial
compared to what you’ve had to deal with.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. Anything that had affected her this deeply was far from trivial.
“Jenny, if there’s somebody else in your life …”
“Not now,” she said quickly. “During college. It ended in a hurry, and it was painful, but mostly because I’d been foolish.”
He studied her serious gray eyes. He would never believe she was a fool. But her heart was so soft, she might have had misplaced affections in her not-so-distant youth. He sorted the pieces she had given him and put together the border of a picture puzzle. “You were too trusting.”
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 13
