Roses Collection: Boxed Set

by Freda, Paula

  "I saw your number on my Caller ID," Michael said. "But you didn't leave any message."

  "Oh," Jessie replied, realizing he was merely returning her call. "I'm sorry," she said. I think I've created a mountain out of a molehill. I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you. And in case my mother does call you and suggests our dating, tell her it's a bad idea at this time."

  The silence that followed her latter remark made her wonder if he'd hung up in disgust.

  "Michael, are you there?"

  She heard him chuckle. "Oh, Jessie, it's all right. I'm not embarrassed. And, actually, I don't think our dating would be such a bad idea. It might help us to regain a healthy outlook about our future. Two old friends going out to enjoy each other's company and rebuild their battered egos."

  How easy he was to talk to, Jessie thought once again, her own embarrassment easing. Maybe they should date, strictly on a platonic basis, of course. "You really think so?" she inquired in earnest.

  "Yes, I do," Michael said. "In fact, in my profession as a finance project manager, I occasionally have dinner with my boss or with a client, and I'd enjoy having a lovely young woman at my side."

  "Lovely young woman?" Jessie asked, comparing the description to herself. Young, but lovely? T-shirts and jeans? She almost laughed, but controlled the urge. She could fit lovely if she wanted to. In fact, it would be fun doing so. Married to Walt, she had lived in t-shirts and jeans. They never went anywhere fancy. They'd lived in poverty; even with the ranch the Driscolls had gifted them. In retrospect, now that she was free and knew the truth about Walt, it was clear to her why he never took her anywhere. No doubt, he lived in fear that he'd encounter someone from his past who might reveal his bigamy.

  Lovely young woman, Jessie repeated.

  "Yes, you're right, Michael. Friends dating, strictly platonic. I think I'd enjoy that. We could help each other regain our sense of worth."

  "Okay, then," Michael said. "As of this moment, we're dating."

  "Strictly platonic," Jessie warned.

  "Absolutely. Two old friends."

  "You're on," Jessie affirmed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  With summer in full swing and three months of fun and laughter, Jessie and Michael waded into the oceanfront. At this early time of the morning, the sandy beach was not crowded and the waters were cool and clear. Waist-deep, Jessie commented, "I can see my toes." She curled them over the wet sand, enjoying the cool feel of the briny grains against the undersides of her toes.

  "You find pleasure in the simplest things," Michael remarked with all earnestness. He rarely disagreed with her, and only when he felt she might benefit from an opposing viewpoint. Constructive critique, he called their occasional difference of opinion. He had an endearing way of challenging her during those times to prove him wrong. And he wasn't a sore loser. He didn't live by the code of his ego alone. She attributed that favorable trait to his Christian background. The Sands were a church-going family.

  "Let's swim," he said. He gazed at her expectantly. The early morning sunlight made the dark blue irises sparkle. Per their platonic understanding and without fear of his thinking she was making a pass at him, she'd mentioned once she liked the color of his eyes. He'd told her he was born with dark brown irises. As a toddler, he'd needed corrective eye surgery. The laser surgery was successful, but the color change was a rare side effect.

  Dusty Blonde hair with dark blue eyes, Jessie pondered. Not easily ignored, she admitted to herself, replying in the affirmative, and plunged into the waves after Michael.

  They swam laps across the beach until, growing pleasantly tired, they returned to their lounge chairs and umbrella.

  "Want something cool to drink," Jessie asked.

  Michael nodded. "I'll get it," he said, delving into the ice cooler that Jessie had packed with water bottles and juice drinks, along with breakfast treats. Lunch, they usually ate at a boardwalk eatery before returning home. Home for Jessie was now an apartment in Garrison, close to the bank where she worked. Michael came up from Manhattan each weekend to spend time with her and with his grandparents. The platonic friendship was proving healthy and helpful to both their battered egos. Occasionally, though, Jessie found herself pondering that she would miss his companionship when, as it must eventually happen, he found someone to love who requited that love.

  "Here, hon," Michael offered her a packaged grape drink, taking one for himself.

  "Thanks," she replied, pressing the ice-cold container against the side of her face, warm and flushed from the heat of the summer's mid-morning sun. "The weatherman forecast hot and humid today, well into the 90's."

  "Yes, it's going to be a scorcher," Michael agreed. "We should leave early; avoid the noon sun before it burns us to a crisp."

  Jessie nodded, finishing her drink. Why hadn't she developed a crush on Michael in their teens, instead of on Walt? Maybe Michael might have requited her feelings, or at least, if not able to, been honest with her. He was kind and thoughtful. Whenever he used the word, We, the aloneness she lived with, dissipated. She felt alive, eager to experience another day. She looked forward to her dates with Michael. Sundays, he attended Mass with her and her parents. Like his brother, John, he was God-fearing and a churchgoer. Morally upright and a gentleman.

  He hadn't veered from his promise of keeping their relationship passionless. He never made a move on her, even in a darkened movie house, or in his car, parked on a hilltop overlooking the town under an indigo star-studded sky and a full moon. His arm around her shoulders, so she could rest her head against the side of his chest, was all the intimacy he allowed himself. Often she found herself dozing peacefully, secure and unafraid, with complete trust in his nearness and his selfless intentions.

  The problem growing between them was of her own making. Unwittingly, through no fault of his, she was falling in love with him, similar to her sister's first love for a gentle, kind young man. Unfortunately, for Carol, he was in love with someone else. Herb, who had loved her since childhood, rescued her. They were happily married now.

  "Hey, pumpkin face, are you okay?" Michael's voice broke into her reverie. Deep in thought, she was unaware she'd been staring at him.

  "Oh, sorry. I think the heat's getting to me," she excused.

  "You seemed a million miles away," Michael said.

  "No, not at all. I was right here, thinking about you— And Carol and Herb." She hoped he hadn't noticed the pause before her quick additive to depersonalize her reply.

  "Getting tired of my company? Ready to move on?"

  Jessie felt her stomach plummet. Words not considered rushed from her lips. "Oh God, No!"

  He didn't comment immediately, but she saw the frown. "Michael, I have no strings on you. And I don't contemplate any." Liar, the thought roared in her mind. To tell the truth was important, more so in their situation. "Michael—"

  "Jessie, are you developing feelings for me?" Michael took her hand. "We agreed to always tell each other the truth."

  Nothing escaped him. Oh Lord, she prayed, I've done it again. Allowed my heart to control my reason. I have fallen in love with him.

  His fingers tightened over hers, his soulful gaze holding hers. "I won't run from you, if you have. Your friendship means too much to me.

  Friendship, that's all he feels for me. What else did I expect, a declaration of love? That he also has developed feelings for me? Jessie chided herself. Stupid girl.

  "Maybe it's time I distance myself from you," Jessica said. "I don't wish to cause you any problems."

  "Have I misunderstood? Have I embarrassed you?" he asked.

  Tell the truth, her thoughts insisted. Don't lie to him. Don't hurt him.

  She turned away. He mustn't read the unhappiness in her eyes. "No, Michael, you haven't misunderstood. I can't deny it to myself any longer." She bit her lower lip, heart throbbing with anxiety, and turning back to him, tears welling in her eyes, forced the words out. "It's time for you to move on. Find someone who you can lo
ve." Now that she'd admitted her feelings, the words came in a rush. "I thank you for helping me to see that I can love again, and that Walt was the exception, not the norm ... and that there is someone else out there worth loving, who will love me back."

  "Jessie, there's an old quote I read in high school, years ago. 'Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.' Recalling it, helped me to cope with losing Macey."

  It seemed he wanted to say more, but he didn't. He released her hand and stood up. The sight of him standing over her, tall, strong, handsome, young, virile, made her quiver. She wasn't an innocent. She had known physical desire and intimacy with the man she'd thought was her husband. She couldn't help the desire welling up in her as Michael stood gazing down at her with earnest concern. Blame it also on her upbringing, to admire strength, beauty and wisdom. At the same time, no doubt remained in her mind, that if Michael should fall in love with her, she'd love him and stand by him for better or for worse, in health or in sickness, in youth and in the frailty of old age, till death do them part, and beyond.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Michael remained silent until they reached her apartment. He parked the car and turned to her, brow pensive while he studied her as if waiting for her to speak.

  Jessica read the uncertainty in his gaze. What could he say that wouldn't hurt her? "It's all right," she offered. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's all my doing ... as usual ... Jessie being Jessie." She unlocked the car door. Turning back for one last look, she lost control of her emotions for a moment. Words issued without restraint. "I'll say this once, and never again. I've fallen in love with you. You are everything that Walt wasn't, everything I ever wanted in a man. But I'll get over it. Be happy, Michael. Whoever she is, that will capture your love, will be the luckiest woman in the world."

  "Jessica–—"

  She didn't let him finish. Opening the door, she climbed out quickly, and not daring to look back, rushed into the building, past the doorman, ignoring his greeting. Inside the small lobby, out of view, she flattened herself against a wall, gulping air, tears streaming down her face, her heart throbbing wildly. It took her a moment to realize she was hyperventilating, her version of an anxiety attack.

  Willing herself to calm down, she closed her eyes, tried to steady her breathing, visualizing a dual image of Jesus and Mary, each holding a hand on their heart and the other extended to her. She kept a painting of this image in her bedroom. She wasn't alone. They were there, beside her, helping her more than any anti-depressant.

  "Ma'am, are you okay?"

  She opened her eyes. The doorman had followed her in. "Don't mean to pry, but you looked like you needed help."

  Her breathing had slowed to almost normal. She smiled at the doorman. "I'm all right now ... thank you." As an afterthought, she asked, "Has my friend left."

  "Yes, he's gone. He seemed worried. In fact, he asked me to go in and make sure you were okay."

  "I'm all right now. My friend is a good man." Inaudibly she rationalized, Michael would have come after me, if he thought it would help. "Thanks for checking on me. I just need to rest. Work tomorrow, you know."

  Her latter words reassured the doorman. He touched his cap in greeting and returned to his post outside.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Michael didn't call. She cried herself to sleep that night, and every night for the next month. But slowly, resignation and acceptance eased the strong sense of loss tearing at her heart — a second time

  During her next visit to her parents, Geraldine mentioned that Michael had called to say he wouldn't be coming up for a while. When she asked him why, he simply told her, "Super-busy at the firm. I promise to visit for Christmas." Ger didn't pry or mention Michael again.

  Cybelle was another matter. She wouldn't let up on Jessie until she told her the reason for the breakup. And even after Jessie bared her heart, her mother wasn't convinced of Michael's detachment. She said as much, on a Saturday afternoon, shopping with her at a street mall in town.

  "Have you heard from Michael?" Cybelle asked.

  "No, mother, I told you. It's over. Beside which, there was nothing between us to begin with."

  "I can't believe that. Your father agreed with me that we had never seen either of you so jovial and full of life. Everyone who saw you together was certain you were a couple.

  "It was platonic, Mom, I told you. We were helping mend each other's heart."

  "And you both succeeded. And while doing so, you both fell in love."

  "Correction, dear mother. I fell in love. Not Michael."

  "Not true," Cybelle insisted. "I saw the way he looked at you, each time you visited together. The same way your father looked at me in the beginning, trying to fight his feelings for me."

  "Mom, it's taken me a long time to realize that I'm not you, and Michael isn't Dad. We're different, possibly not as wise as you and Dad. Cinderella Ice forgot her promise to herself and fell into the trap of her own making a second time."

  Cybelle halted and cradled her daughter's arm. "No, no, you're wrong. Michael does love you. He may not have worked it out, yet, but he will. Call him, Jessie, just to see how he's doing. Call him, or I will." Cybelle's chin rose saucily. Her dark eyes flashed with determination.

  "Mother, you promised!" Jessie pleaded.

  Cybelle's shoulders slumped, the resolve deserting her. "Yes, I did, and-and I'll keep that promise. No matter how much my love for you insists I do otherwise."

  "Besides which," Jessie offered trying to lighten their spirits, "Dad would give you hell," she chuckled.

  Cybelle laughed. "You're right. His exasperation with me and disappointment, would ruin our Christmas, and the next six months."

  Cybelle sighed. "Oh sweetheart, what am I to do? I can't stand seeing you so unhappy."

  "Mother, I keep telling you I'm all right. Michael said something I can't, I won't forget. 'Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.' It's a quote; I looked it up. Washington Irving wrote it, nearly two hundred years ago. It's helped me understand—"

  She stopped talking, her features suddenly turning solemn as she caught sight of Michael, coming from the opposite direction, strolling arm and arm with a beautiful blonde. They were conversing amicably, smiling at each other.

  If she had been alone, she might have managed to hide and avoid him seeing her. No time to explain to her mother, and pull her away. Luckily, Cybelle's back was to the couple. She didn't see him meet Jessie's glance, or the shock on his face, followed by confusion."

  "Mom, do you mind, if we change the subject, completely. Please."

  "Oh, Jessie, I'm causing you pain. I'm so sorry. Of course. Let's finish our shopping. I do have to get home. Geraldine's waiting to discuss her menu with me for Christmas Dinner, although she's never failed to do a fantastic job. But she insists on my approval, and any dish she missed I might be craving."

  "Dearest Ger," Jessie praised, expressing the deep affection they both felt for her. "Mom, let's go into the dress boutique. I saw this dress in the window that would look fabulous on you."

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Take me home, Michael," Jasmine said.

  "What?"

  "Please."

  "But our dinner date with my parents. Mom and Dad have been looking forward to meeting you." Harriet had driven Val to near frustration, recruiting his help for the past week, cleaning every nook and cranny, to make her home presentable to the girl her son was bringing home to meet them.

  "I know. And I'm sorry," Jasmine replied. "But meeting your parents wouldn't be right, not now."

  "Why, why wouldn't it be right, now?"

  "Be honest with yourself, and with me. I saw the way you looked at each other. I'd have to be a complete nitwit not to have divined the truth. She's in love with you."

  Before he could protest, Jasmine put a finger to his lips, and added. "And you're in love with her."

  "Jasmin
e, wait a minute. You may be right about her retaining feelings for me. But that's the reason we parted, amicably. We were and still are best friends. I worry about her. She worries about me."

  "Is that why you haven't talk to each other in months?"

  "Our friendship was clouding our minds. Jessie recognized this. That's why we both agreed to stay away from each other. We were good together, both of us mending each other's broken heart. She was warm-hearted and sensitive, but reasonable. I could disagree with her without worrying she'd misunderstand, or take me to task. And she needed me, needed my compassion, as much as I needed hers. It was easy to mistake a deep abiding friendship for love."

  "Michael, tell me, what color are her eyes?"

  "Oh, come on," he said. "I've heard that one before. Seen the movies as well."

  "Well, humor me, tell me."

  "They're brown."

  "Just brown?"

  "Yes, well, it depends on what light she's standing under. In the sunlight, their color reminds me of the bark of an oak tree, a warm vibrant light brown. In the moonlight, a cool, soft grayish brown." He cleared his throat, unable to hold back the nostalgia the image recalled.

  "One more question, the last one, I promise," Jasmine said.

  Lucky for her, he was a patient man, Michael thought. "Okay, one more."

  "Do you consider her beautiful?"

  "Of course, she's beautiful. Well, maybe not drop-dead gorgeous, or even glamorous. She's lovely, sweet-natured, pleasant to gaze at, always ready to show affection. When she smiles, it's with her whole being. And when she cries, it's out of desperation to be understood and to be loved. Her bigamous ex had the stupidity to describe her as cloying and adolescent."

  Jasmine was a good listener, he thought. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run on so."

  "Yes, you did." Jasmine said. "You've been holding those thoughts in for a long time, and you needed someone to help you let them loose."