by Lisa Moreau
“I gotta go,” Jordan said as she approached. “I have a hot lunch date.” She slipped an arm around Sophie’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “I just wanted to call and wish you luck Monday. I’m meeting with the lawyer, but I’ll tape the show and watch it later. And don’t worry. You’ll do great.” Jordan paused and looked at Sophie. “Yeah…no way.” Jordan put her hand over the receiver. “Doug wants to talk to you.”
“And you said no? Why can’t I speak to your very best friend in the whole wide world?”
“Because you’ll embarrass me.” Jordan quickly looked at Sophie and pointed at the phone. “I meant him, not you.” She huffed and stared up at the clouds. “All right, all right, but be good.” Jordan handed the phone to Sophie.
“Hello?” Sophie said.
“Is this the infamous Sophie?” Doug asked, a smile in his voice.
“It is. How are you?”
“It’s so great to speak with you. Listen, we don’t have much time because I’m sure Jordan is about to snatch the phone back. I just wanted to say you mean the world to her. I’ve known Jordan for ten years, and she’s never, ever talked about anyone the way she does you.”
It wasn’t anything Jordan hadn’t already said herself, but Sophie was touched by his words. “Well, I can tell you the feeling is mutual.” Sophie looked into Jordan’s eyes, which were light green in the sunlight.
“That’s good to hear.” Doug sounded relieved. “And I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t say if you break her heart, I will hunt you down.”
Sophie laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Jordan reached for the phone. “I think you two have had enough phone time.”
“You were right,” Sophie said. “She’s grabbing for the phone. So, I’ll say good-bye, and maybe we can meet in person one of these days.”
“Absolutely. So long.”
“You still there?” Jordan asked. “Yes, she’s as adorable as she sounds. Even more so.” Jordan grinned. “You, too. Talk to you later.” She disconnected and slipped the phone into her back pocket.
“Doug sounds nice,” Sophie said.
“He’s something, that’s for sure. He’s stressed because he’s making his first public appearance on Ophelia Monday, and it’s live. You’ll be happy to know I told him about meridian tapping, and he said he’d look it up online.”
“That’s great. I keep meaning to ask if you’ve had any fainting spells lately.”
“Nope. Not one. And hopefully I won’t have a reoccurrence tonight when I see my dad.”
“Are Rebecca and Chuck going to be there?”
“Yep, the big dysfunctional family dinner. That’s probably a good thing, though. They can act as a buffer. I’m still shocked he invited me.”
“I wish I could be there for you.” Sophie placed her hands on Jordan’s hips.
“Me, too, but under the circumstances that would make things more difficult. Plus, I don’t want to subject you to a horrible night. You sure you still want me to come over afterward? I may not be in the best mood.”
“Of course.” Sophie moved closer, until their bodies were almost touching. “I’d be disappointed if I didn’t get to see you.”
Jordan bowed her head and gave Sophie a quick kiss, just a taste of sweet lips that left her wanting more.
“Are you hungry?” Jordan asked, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Sophie. “I meant for food. Come on, before I drag you back to my place.”
When they entered the café they spotted Bertha propped against the counter staring into space. She didn’t even notice them until they waved their hands in front of her face.
“Oh, hey.” Bertha grabbed a glass and began polishing it. After that, she wiped down the counters, avoiding eye contact. Sophie and Jordan exchanged curious glances. This wasn’t the usual attentive, smiling Bertha they were used to.
“Is everything okay?” Sophie asked.
“Sure.” Bertha continued scrubbing the counter without looking up.
Jordon furrowed her brow. “How was the date?” When she didn’t respond, Jordan prodded her. “Did something happen? Did the coach try something?” Jordan sat upright and looked like she was ready to clobber someone.
“Oh, no. He was the perfect gentleman.”
“So, you had a good night?” Sophie asked tentatively.
Bertha stopped scouring the counter and looked at Sophie. “It was wonderful. It’s just…I haven’t been swept off my feet in a long time. I’d forgotten what it was like.” Bertha paused and studied the countertop. “It’s a little scary. You’ve got to understand. I’ve been alone for over thirty years. I got used to not needing anyone. Last night I got a taste of what it was like to be wanted, and I liked it. A lot. What if I get attached and then it doesn’t work out?” Apprehension filled Bertha’s eyes.
Sophie reached for her hand across the counter and gave it a squeeze. “What you’re feeling is completely normal. Relationships can bring up all sorts of fears, but when you find someone special, someone you really connect with, it’s worth taking a chance and trusting them with your heart.”
Sophie wasn’t sure if what she’d said was for Bertha’s benefit or her own. She wanted to believe that she could trust Jordan with her heart. And more than anything, she wanted to believe that love would conquer any challenges they might face.
*
The brass lion’s head door knocker stared back at Jordan. That thing used to scare her something awful when she was a kid. Its mouth was open wide in mid-growl, revealing sharp teeth, and its devilish red-painted eyes made it look as though it’d pulled an all-night drinking binge. She probably should have suggested they meet at a restaurant, considering she hadn’t stepped foot in her childhood home since they threw her out, but she’d been too shocked by the invite to even think about it. Jordan took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. Chuck swung the door open so fast he must have been standing on the other side.
“Hey, Jordan. What’s that?”
Leave it to a kid to zero in on a gift-wrapped box. She’d picked something up for him in LA over Christmas. “A present.”
“For me?”
“Maybe.” Jordan ruffled the top of his head. “Are you gonna invite me in?”
“Oh yeah.” He opened the door wide. “You wanna see my room?”
“Definitely, but a little later, okay?” Jordan stepped through the foyer and into the living room, suddenly hit by the scent of bananas. She barely recognized the place. It was like she’d stepped onto the set of the Golden Girls or the lobby of the Ramada Inn in Ft. Lauderdale. Pastel paint was sprayed everywhere, wicker furniture galore, and so many tropical plants that she half expected to hear jungle drums in the distance.
Rebecca poked her head out the kitchen. “Hello, Jordan. Welcome to our home.”
You mean what used to be my home before you tossed me out. But Jordan wasn’t going there. The less they talked about the past, the better. She just wanted to get through the next couple of hours and get out of there.
“Wow, the place looks…different,” Jordan said.
Rebecca came out the kitchen and into the living room. “You like? We were going for a tropical feel.”
“Hmm…I think you captured it.”
“We got these sea-glass lamps in Carmel and special-ordered the sofa and chair. They’re made of banana bark,” Rebecca said proudly.
“Oh. Looks like wicker.”
Rebecca whipped her head around, and Jordan almost ducked from the poisonous darts thrown her way.
“It’s banana bark.” The resolute tone in her voice left no room for discussion. “And this is a Pierce.” Rebecca motioned to the massive seashell painting over the fireplace. “You do know who Ramon Pierce is, don’t you?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“He’s just the most famous artiste on the West Coast.”
“Ahh.” Jordan looked at Chuck and shrugged.
“Well, dinner is almost ready.”
/> Thank God. Let’s eat so I can get the hell out of here and to Sophie’s sooner rather than later.
Jordan turned when she heard her father clear his throat. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Chuck broke the silence.
“Jordan brought me a present.”
“Did she now?” Charles looked at the box clutched in Jordan’s hand.
“Why don’t you open it?” Jordan asked.
Chuck grabbed the gift and plopped down on the banana-bark sofa, which looked terribly uncomfortable. Within seconds, he’d ripped off the paper and lifted the lid, a look of shock on his face. Speechlessly, he held up a signed Kobe Bryant LA Lakers jersey and stared at it with an open mouth before clutching it to his chest.
“Wow! It’s a real Lakers signed jersey.” Chuck bolted off the couch and hugged Jordan’s waist. She couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. “Do you actually know Kobe?”
“No, but a friend of mine does. I thought you might like it.”
“It’s the most awesome thing ever. Wait ’til the guys on the team see this. They’ll be sooo jealous.”
“Dinner’s ready!” Rebecca called out from the kitchen. Obviously, she was as ready to get this thing over with as Jordan was.
Halfway through the meal, even Jordan had to admit things were going smoothly. Topics of conversation revolved around Chuck’s basketball team, Rebecca’s interior-decorating fancy, and her father’s golf swing. At first, Jordan was glad the spotlight was off her. After a while, though, she was hit with a sudden wave of sadness. It was as though she weren’t even there. She contributed to the conversation every now and then but felt like an outsider in what should have been her home. This cozy dinner scene could have easily taken place without her, and surely often did. As much as Jordan professed to love her solitary lifestyle, she couldn’t deny the ache in the center of her chest. She yearned to be a part of something, someplace that felt like home, and it was glaringly obvious that this wasn’t the place.
After dinner, Jordan’s offer to help with the dishes was met with a wave of the hand, which was fine by her since she was ready to bolt. Unfortunately, Rebecca had other ideas.
“Why don’t you and your father go into his study for a nightcap?”
They stared at Rebecca as though she’d suggested they run the LA Marathon barefoot. After a few sideways glances and an awkward silence, they begrudgingly disappeared into the office, which looked to be the only room that hadn’t been Golden Girl-ized. The scent of leather hung in the air as Jordan took in the surroundings. From what she could tell, not much had changed. It was still a dimly lit room with wood paneling, a walnut desk, bookcase, and a well-worn brown couch and chair.
“Have a seat. Would you like a drink?” Charles asked.
Jordan sat on the edge of the couch. “Water’s fine, thanks.”
“Not a drinker?” Ice cubes clinked as he dropped several into a glass and poured something from a decanter.
“Not much of one.” Liquor usually made her say things she wouldn’t normally. Better to keep her wits about her.
Charles snuck sideways glances at Jordan. “You look even more like your mother than when you were younger.”
“Sometimes when I look in the mirror I see her staring back at me.”
“You always were exactly like her.” Charles grunted, like that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He handed Jordan a glass and sat in the chair.
She took a sip and looked around the room in an attempt to avoid eye contact. “I see you didn’t let Rebecca redecorate your office.”
A hint of a smile crossed his face, which was the closest he’d come to showing any pleasure all evening.
Jordan took another drink and rested the glass on her knee. “I was…uh…surprised when you invited me over tonight. And a little shocked you said it was Mom’s idea. You two keep in contact?”
Charles stared into his drink. “Your mother will always be important to me.” He glanced up, a surprising sadness in his eyes. “You do know it was her idea to get divorced and not mine.”
Jordan had been only ten at the time, but she did recall that her father had seemed upset about the parting, whereas her mother had just wanted to escape. She was a free spirit who only cared about her career and didn’t want to be tied down, and as far as Jordan knew she’d never dated anyone after the divorce. Maybe her father was right. Maybe she was a carbon copy of her mother, flitting from one relationship to the next, concentrating on nothing but her career. The thought of that was surprisingly sad. Jordan wanted something more, something different. She wanted a life with Sophie, which should have scared her, but it didn’t. Instead, she felt giddy with excitement.
“I guess I did know,” Jordan said, “but I didn’t think you cared much for her after the divorce.”
“I did. And still do.” Charles’s voice cracked with emotion.
Jordan wasn’t sure if she was more surprised by her father’s admission or the fact that they were discussing something meaningful. As she studied her father―with his stooped posture, despondent gaze, and drawn features―she actually felt sorry for him. It was painfully obvious he was still in love with her mother. Sad as it was, that was at least one thing they had in common. She’d experienced the heartache of being separated from someone she loved for the past ten years. Unlike her father, though, Jordan had a second chance at happiness.
*
Sophie opened the cabin door before Jordan even got out of her car, anxious to hear how dinner had gone. If the look on Jordan’s face was any indication, it must have been a difficult night. Sophie immediately wrapped her arms around Jordan and hugged her tight.
“I missed you,” Jordan said, slightly swaying them back and forth like they were doing a slow dance.
“Me, too. It’s feels so good to be in your arms again. We’re pathetic.” Sophie chuckled. “We just saw each other this afternoon.”
“Pathetically happy.” Jordan kissed Sophie’s forehead and led them into the cabin. She slumped into the sofa and stared at Mr. Limpet swimming in circles.
Sophie sat and lightly ran her fingers through Jordan’s soft, chestnut hair. Sophie’s heart ached at her pensive expression and troubled eyes. She wanted to wave a magic wand and make everything better.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah, but can we just rest here for a minute?” Jordan laid her head on Sophie’s shoulder.
They sat in silence as Sophie stroked Jordan’s hair and held her hand. As much as she hated that Jordan was upset, she loved the opportunity to coddle her. After a while, Jordan sat upright and forced a smile.
“Did you have a bad night?” Sophie asked, grazing Jordan’s cheek with her fingertips.
“It wasn’t as horrible as I thought it’d be. We didn’t talk about what happened or anything. I’m sure if we had, it would have gotten ugly. I don’t know. I just…I felt like such an outsider.”
“Aww, I’m sorry, sweetheart. You know, just because you’re related to someone doesn’t mean you automatically have to get along with them, even when it’s your father. I had to make my own family with Bertha and the girls.”
“I did the same with Doug.” Jordan turned and looked at Sophie. “And you. You were home to me.” Jordan slipped her arm around Sophie’s shoulders and pulled her close. “At least I got to see Chuck. He’s a great kid. And I did have a chat with my dad in his study.”
“Oh? How’d that go?”
“There was a moment when I actually felt sorry for him. He’s still in love with my mom. In fact, I don’t think he ever stopped. He said I was exactly like her. It made me think that maybe that was part of the reason he threw me out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I was a constant reminder of what he couldn’t have. I look like her, and I act like her. I’m not saying that excuses him in any way, but it may have played a part.”
“You might be right. How’d the night end? Do you
think you’ll keep in touch with him?”
Jordan shook her head. “Not likely. I don’t think he’d ever apologize for what he did or accept me. I do, though, want to be in Chuck’s life. Hopefully, they’re receptive to that.”
“He’s lucky to have a big sister like you.” Sophie kissed Jordan on the cheek. She lay on the couch and guided Jordan with her. “You look exhausted. Rest with me here for a while.”
It wasn’t long before Jordan’s rhythmic breathing indicated she was asleep. Sophie must have followed suit, because the next thing she knew she was awakened with a shiver at two a.m. She considered suggesting they go to bed, but Jordan was sleeping so peacefully she didn’t want to disturb her. Instead, she reached on the back of the sofa for an afghan and wrapped it around them both, like they were safe and secure inside a cocoon where nothing could ever tear them apart.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Everything Hits the Fan
Aside from New Year’s Eve 1999, this was quite possibly the worst day of Jordan’s life. First, the meeting with Mr. Simms was a total waste of time since Nanci was a no-show, so now they’d have to set up another one to review the contract. Plus, she’d missed watching Doug on Ophelia because she was stuck in Mr. Simms’s office trying to come up with conversation topics until Nanci arrived. Worst of all, though, was when Jordan checked her voice messages. She had parked in front of Bertha’s to pick up lunch before heading to the sanctuary when she had a sudden urge to listen to a voice message from Doug.
“Hey, it’s me. I didn’t want to leave this on voice mail, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. Um…I think I may have screwed up. Apparently, Ophelia knows about you selling the sanctuary because she brought it up in the TV interview. I don’t think it’s really her fault. I mean, she was trying to talk up SOS, saying that we’re going to expand after you sell the land. She put me on the spot, and I couldn’t really deny it. It would have made her look bad, and it is true. Anyway, give me a call when you get this.”
