by Linda Wisdom
“Obviously you never told Tim your story,” she commented softly. “No, although I have thought about it.”
“I think you should.” She placed her hand on the door handle. “You answered a lot of questions for me tonight, Jess. I’m grateful to know that our parting wasn’t all my fault as I had thought for a long time. I’m also glad you’re finally at peace with yourself.” Her eyes shimmered with tears, but she refused to allow them to fall. “I only wish I could have given you that peace, but I guess my love for you hadn’t been enough. Good night, Jess.”
Before he could move or say a word, she was out of the truck and running down the walkway to the front door, where a porch light shone invitingly. She didn’t look back as she slipped inside. The porch went dark, and Jess still sat inside the truck. Whatever reaction he might have expected from Sara, hurt feelings wasn’t a part of it. And this time he knew it had nothing to do with injured pride. She honestly believed her love hadn’t been enough for him! That wasn’t true, but how did he explain it to her?
The truck moved slowly away from the house. Jess was aware someone watched him from behind the living-room drapes. He wasn’t eager to go home just now, but he didn’t know what else to do. He entered his empty house and wandered through the rooms that were kept clean and orderly thanks to Mrs. Harris, but they still had no personality. The woman was a wonder with a vacuum and dust rag, but fresh flowers never graced the vases, because she said the petals dropped almost right away and cluttered the tables and too many knickknacks were dust collectors. He remembered seeing the wildflowers in a simple glass vase on Sara’s dining-room table and a collection of pewter figurines in a tall glass case in one corner of the den. They didn’t look like dust collectors, merely something the owner enjoyed. Nothing there was expensive, just well cared for as if each tiny item carried a special memory. He went into his bedroom and looked around the spare furnishings; a double bed with a cream-colored bedspread, a dresser, an easy chair in one corner with a reading lamp behind it, nothing fancy just plain furniture that carried no stories for him, held no memories. He had kept few personal items that meant anything to him, because theft happened in the halfway house. No matter how much they tried to help some of the kids, they still didn’t know how to do anything else but steal.
He was still glad he told Sara what had happened years ago. It wasn’t a pretty story, but he knew it had to be told. Maybe she could understand why he hadn’t gone after her then. Actually it had taken the decision out of his hands, because to this day he wondered if he would have tried to find her or just written her off as a great affair that was meant to end the way it had.
Still, he thought about the softness of her hair, the floral fragrance of her skin and her response when he kissed her. Oh, yes, the response. That was more than a surprise. That was something to cherish. And if he played his cards right and took great care, he could have even more to cherish than the memories of a few kisses and the feel of a woman’s body under his hands. Until then he would have to concentrate on his own work and pray everything would turn out all right.
SARA CREPT DOWN THE HALL, went into her room and slowly undressed, leaving her clothes scattered across the carpet. She sat on the bed, her back braced against the headboard, her chin resting on her drawn-up knees. Now that Jess had answered so many of her questions about what had happened after they had parted, she found she had even more to ask him.
His story was an earth-shattering revelation to her. The last thing she had expected to hear was that he had spent time in jail or that a minister had turned his life around. She realized her feelings were a little selfish, because she had once believed she was all he needed to be happy. Now she had learned differently, and she would be a fool if she didn’t admit it hurt.
She began to wonder if anything would make sense now. The two sides of Jess—the wild and free lover and the minister-couldn’t be reconciled. Could she expect them to? If she was smart enough, she’d say no. So which man was she interested in? The man she once knew or the man she now knew? That wasn’t an easy question to answer. It was a long time before she could relax enough to slip under the covers and try to sleep.
TIM SAT in the dark living room listening to his mother’s bedtime preparations. She was in such a state when she arrived home that she hadn’t even noticed his presence in the front room. But Tim noticed her, and how upset she seemed. It was his guess that the reverend had something to do with it. He could feel his temper beginning to rise, and he got up from his chair, determined to seek out the man and find out what he had said to upset his mother. But caution intervened. He knew if he did, his mother would never forgive him, and he would only end up in more trouble. Besides, his brain whispered, what if it didn’t have to do with the preacher at all, what if someone at the party had said something rude to her?
That didn’t stop him from wanting the answers behind his mother’s sorrow. No matter what, there was something going on between his mother and the preacher. He could feel it. He just wasn’t sure it was right. He stayed in the chair for a long time trying to figure out the vagaries of the adult population.
By UNSPOKEN CONSENT, Tim and Jackson ignored Sara’s quiet manner the next day. Tim took off for his job at the hardware store and Jackson for the station. The older man suggested to Sara that she come down after lunch, since she had had a late night.
“You haven’t asked me one question about the party.” She thought she would bring it up first, before he caught her off guard as he so enjoyed doing.
“You want to tell me about it, you will. You don’t want to, you won’t,” Jackson drawled. “I ain’t gonna push.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Jackson, this is not you, so don’t try to be some endearing old man when we all know what a rascal you really are.” She wrinkled her nose at his wide grin. “I do admit it was an experience. Mrs. Masterson wasn’t pleased to see me, but she managed to keep her claws to herself. The food was very good, quite a few people I knew were there, and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I did have fun. At least in the beginning.”
“Until someone insulted you?”
Sara shrugged. “Not exactly. Oh, a few people turned their backs on me, which didn’t surprise me, but there was nothing out in the open that I could battle, which was probably just as well.”
“So why aren’t you happy about it?” he asked bluntly.
She shook her head. “Because of other things I’d really rather not go into just now.”
Jackson’s bushy brows drew together in an intimidating frown. “Dammit, I didn’t want to see you hurt, and he’s gone and done it already! Maybe I should go over there and have a talk with him. You’re just whitewashing the facts, aren’t you?”
“No, it’s not what you think,” Sara protested swiftly, afraid the feisty old man would march over to Jess’s house and confront him. She knew that would be a scene she would never be able to live down, even though she loved him dearly for wanting to defend her in the best way he knew how.
He didn’t look convinced, but he finally went down to the station, leaving Sara alone with her thoughts-a state she wasn’t happy with since she had been doing too much thinking since she had left Jess last night.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and curled up in an easy chair in the den, again going over her new feelings for Jess, the events of last night, his story. That was when it hit her.
He didn’t have to have told her. He could have kept it quiet, and she would have been none the wiser. He certainly wouldn’t have lied to her if she had insisted on knowing what had happened to him back then, but he still could have gotten around it.
She told herself she would have to call him. But not just yet. She still wanted to get all of this sorted out in her mind before talking to him. And the best way to do that was retire to the kitchen and whip up a chocolate chip cheesecake.
TIM STOPPED BY Jess’s house after work, as per Jess’s request, and with the athletic clothing he had suggested.
/> “What are we doing?” Tim demanded, when Jess met him at the front door, wearing navy jogging shorts and a white T-shirt. “Hey, I do enough running in school, I don’t want to do it on the weekends.”
“The time has come for you to learn how to work off some of that frustration you build up,” he replied, tossing his keys up and down in his hand. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” He followed Jess down the driveway to the Bronco. “The best place to learn,” he said mysteriously, as they drove down the street.
Their destination turned out to be the YMCA, where Jess steered Tim to the locker room to change, then led him into the weight room. For the next hour he instructed the boy in the proper use of the weights and set up a training program for him.
“We’re going to be coming here three times a week for a while,” Jess told him, after they had finished their session.
“If you expect me to jump up and down for joy, you’re going to wait a long time,” Tim muttered, climbing slowly into the Bronco and feeling the pull of each sore muscle.
Jess stopped at a McDonald’s, and they sat in a corner table drinking Cokes and talking. What Jess tried to do was get Tim to discuss his thoughts about school and the people he interrelated with. The more he heard, the more he understood the boy.
After sitting so long at McDonald’s and then climbing back into the truck, Tim found out exactly how stiff his body was. “No wonder you don’t have a temper, you probably killed it if this is how you work off your inner frustrations,” he grumbled, when Jess stopped the truck in front of Tim’s house.
“The first time is always the worst,” Jess replied. “Don’t worry, you’ll find that it gets easier every time. Just give it time. A hot bath will help keep your muscles from stiffening up too much. I’ll see you Monday.”
“What happened to you?” Sara asked, watching her son limp through the kitchen.
“He’s trying to kill me,” he muttered, groaning when he tried to lift his arm. “I swear he wants to see how long it will take before he breaks every bone in my body.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, alarmed and suddenly fearing the worst.
Tim shook his head. “His idea of working out frustration is to go to the Y. And we did just that-work out.”
Sara smiled. “And you’re feeling a bit stiff. Don’t worry, dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. You’ll feel better after you eat.”
”I’m not so sure I’m hungry,” he muttered, leaving the kitchen. “I’m going to take another hot shower.”
“A hot bath would help you more,” she called after him.
“Yeah, that’s what he said.” Tim limped along to his room. It wasn’t until he was standing under the shower that he realized he hadn’t asked Reverend Larkin the question he wanted to: what had happened last night to make his mother cry? He filed that thought away, because he wasn’t about to be sidetracked Monday afternoon.
He groaned when he tried to bend over in the shower. He groaned again when he struggled to sit down in the kitchen chair for dinner, and while he watched television he merely stretched out on the carpet, saying it was easier.
Sara watched her disgruntled son and hid her smile. Apparently he wasn’t too pleased with Jess’s idea of easing various frustrations. A devilish thought hit her as she wondered if that was his way to take care of sexual frustration, too. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t been tempted over the years, and a minister’s life was so high profile that he certainly couldn’t have an affair and have it go unnoticed.
Around ten o’clock Sara announced she was going to read for a while and have an early night. Instead, the moment her bedroom door was closed she picked up her phone and dialed Jess’s number.
“It’s me,” she said unnecessarily when he answered. “I’m not calling too late, am I?”
“No.” His voice was equally soft. “Although I will admit I’m surprised to hear from you.”
Sara jumped in before she could lose her nerve. “Jess, from the beginning I always wondered what happened to you, and then when I find out I back off. I know this sounds foolish, but it was a shock to me.”
“That’s understandable.”
“You’re not the same man I remembered,” she explained. “While we were together you never went out and broke the law just for the hell of it–Sorry about that,” she murmured apologetically. “But you did take chances back then. Chances that could have landed you in a great deal of trouble, but you never cared. Chances you wouldn’t even consider now, and I don’t think it all has to do with maturity, either.”
Jess didn’t have to ask for clarification. It was so incredibly easy to understand. She didn’t see him as the same man. Luckily that was something he could easily remedy.
“Let’s have a picnic lunch Monday at one,” he suggested. “We can talk then.”
She shouldn’t leave the station, because she had already taken so much time off, but she knew it had to be done. “All right. In fact I’ll fix the food, and you won’t need to bring a thing but yourself. Good night, Jess.”
“Good night, Sara.”
JESS’S MANNER TOWARD HER Sunday morning was the same as his manner toward every other member of the congregation. He smiled, shook her hand and wished her a good week. When she looked up at him for a brief second, she could have sworn she saw a flash of that old Larkin devilment in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she could have imagined it. By Monday afternoon when it was time to meet Jess at the lake, she was convinced she had imagined that expression in his eyes.
She packed the wicker basket with all sorts of goodies made for tempting a man. Just in case she hadn’t imagined that wicked twinkle in his eye, she dressed with the same idea in mind.
As before, Jess was sitting on the large rock. He wore faded jeans that clung to his body like a second skin, a white T-shirt, and dusty, brown boots. Sara slid out of her car and stood there staring at the man seated on the boulder at the water’s edge. For a moment she was taken back in time. She slowly turned and pulled the basket and a heavy blanket from the back seat. “I brought lunch,” she called out, holding the basket up. He smiled, and the smile conveyed that he liked what he saw. Who wouldn’t? Sara wore a pair of blue chambray shorts that hugged her hips and a matching, tailored shirt with the tails tied just under her breasts leaving a pale gold expanse of bare skin for his hungry eyes to feast on. He watched her walk toward him, unable to keep his eyes off the heavenly sight before him.
“What did you bring for dessert?”
Sara froze for a second, unable to believe her ears. “Chocolate-chip cheesecake,” she said finally. “I promised you some the last time we were here.”
He hopped down from the boulder, taking the blanket out of her hand and spreading it over the bare area, then sat down in the center. He held his hand up in a silent offer to help her down.
“Do you and Tim go to the Y again today?” she asked, using any subject she could think of.
He grinned. “Think he’ll be able to handle it?”
Sara couldn’t help grinning back. “I don’t know. He was moaning and groaning like an old man Saturday night. Jackson said Tim sounded worse than he did when his rheumatism was acting up. You wore him out so much he didn’t even feel like going out with his friends. And for him to miss a Saturday night out says a lot. I understand what you’re doing, and I think it’s wonderful,” she said huskily.
“If he had tried out for school sports, he would have been better off.” Jess stared into her eyes, noticing they had been highlighted with a touch of gray shadow and blue liner. “I know you kept him working at the station, but that was only when you could get him there. Since he doesn’t consider it a real job, he didn’t always show up when you needed him.”
“Doesn’t consider it a real job?” Sara was incredulous. “I pay him a decent hourly wage, I don’t set rigid hours for him, but before he started working at the hardware store I did expect him to help out at the station
certain days after school and on weekends.” . Jess held up his hand. “That’s the key word–help. You expected him to ‘help out,’ not to work per se. He wasn’t an employee, he was the owner’s son, who worked in the station when she needed him.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
Sara carefully unpacked the basket and set the food out, fried chicken, fruit salad, yeasty homemade rolls with golden honey accompanying them, iced tea and several large slices of her cheesecake.
“I’d say this required quite a bit of preparation,” Jess hazarded a guess, slathering honey on a roll, then placing several pieces of chicken on his paper plate.
“Jackson has been asking for fried chicken for a long time, so I decided this was as good a time as any to fix it,” she lied, concentrating on her fruit salad.
He grasped her chin and tilted her face upward, “You never could lie, Sara,” he said gently, his thumb rubbing the corner of her mouth with seductive pressure. He held out his roll, inviting her to take a bite. Keeping her eyes on his, she opened her mouth and bit into the still-warm roll. A drop of honey glistened on her bottom lip, and before she could wipe it off he did it for her with his tongue.
Sara’s breath caught, leaving a heaviness in her chest. She inhaled the warm scent of male skin and aftershave. He was so close to her she could see the pores of his skin and a tiny nick where he had cut himself shaving that morning. She felt as giddy as if she had drunk champagne. Before she could lean further into his half embrace, he moved away.
“Now let’s try this chicken,” he said matter-of-factly, holding a piece of white meat against her lips. Again her lips opened, and she bit into the juicy meat. From then on Sara didn’t lift a finger to feed herself as Jess continued to tempt her with succulent bites of chicken, the choicest bits of fruit and rolls. When they finished every bite, he used a plastic fork to slice bites of cheesecake and fed that to her.
