by Davis, Mary
“Everyone got to hold him.”
She could almost hear an “except me” trailing on the end, though he didn’t say it aloud.
“I’ve missed so much.”
She knew just the picture to cheer him up. She tried to flip to the back. He put his hand on the pages to stop her. “I want to see them all.”
“I wanted to show you one real quick.”
He removed his hand. Before she could turn to the back, RJ came over.
He pointed to a picture of himself. “JJ.” Then he flipped page after page.
She pulled her hands away and let him. “He’s looking for his favorite picture. It’s one with—”
Roger held up his hand. “Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”
RJ turned one last page and pointed to a photograph at the bottom. “Ball.”
Roger laughed. “I should have guessed.”
“Now may I show Daddy a picture?”
RJ pointed his little finger at the picture again. “Ball.”
“Yes, it’s your ball.” He would keep talking about that picture if she didn’t distract him. “Now go get your ball. It’s in your room.”
RJ ran down the hall.
She leafed through several more pages close to the end. The book was nearly full. She would have to start another one. She pointed to the last photo that had been slipped into one of the sleeves.
Roger drew in his breath at the photograph of RJ and him seated on the couch reading Inside Teddy’s House. “You had it developed already.”
“The magic of one-hour photo. I was at the end of the roll.” She had shot the last few frames, anxious to see how this one turned out.
RJ plopped his ball in the middle of the album. “Ball.”
Roger clambered down on the floor and played ball and gave him “horsy” rides until lunch.
She served RJ his usual plain hot dog and some strawberry yogurt. Roger made no comments about the topping-less hot dog. She pulled out some luncheon meat and started to make sandwiches. “Are you hungry?”
Roger looked up at her with a smile. “Starved.”
It felt strange to sit there as a family eating a meal together. It was something she looked forward to getting used to.
After lunch, Roger finished thumbing through the photo album. RJ watched a video for a few minutes until time for his nap.
Jackie always sang to RJ when she put him to bed. She felt self-conscious doing so now with Roger standing close by. But her son needed his routine. It had been disrupted enough lately. She tried to take his new toy from him, but he clung tightly to it. She made him promise not to put it in his mouth and go right to sleep. She was thankful that soon after his first birthday he’d stopped putting toys and other objects in his mouth. RJ tucked the motorcycle in the crook of his arm like a teddy bear. Evidently there was a Harley gene in the Villeroy line.
As they walked down the hall, Roger whispered near her ear, “Why didn’t you ever sing me to sleep?”
She smiled. “Because you’re not two years old. But if you’re nice, I’ll let you lick the frosting knife.”
“Is it chocolate?”
“Of course.”
Roger accompanied her upstairs. As she iced the cupcakes with a thick layer of frosting, he fiddled with the kitchen towel that hung from the oven handle, making sure it was centered and even. They didn’t seem to have much to talk about with RJ napping and Roger tightlipped. She would save that discussion for another day. Stay in the present. “So what have you been doing since you came back? Are you working?” It seemed like a simple, innocent question, but she asked it like some prying ninny. What else could she ask and not seem like she was pressing him?
“I’m working. You know me—I can’t sit idle.”
Do I? “Are you working for Mr. Moore again?” Doing whatever it was you did.
He hesitated, and a shadow crossed his face. He pulled the towel from the oven handle and wrapped it around his hand. “I never stopped.”
Never stopped! So Mr. Moore took Roger away from me and sent him all over the world. Another day, she reminded herself, not RJ’s birthday.
She wanted to shake off the clouds and have fun today—and pull Roger out of his sudden melancholy. She scooped more frosting from the white plastic tub, but instead of picking up a cupcake she touched the knife to Roger’s nose.
He stopped playing with the towel and raised his gray gaze slowly to her. “Why did you do that?”
She turned around, pretending to be deeply involved in icing the next cupcake. “You still like chocolate frosting, don’t you?”
He wiped his nose and licked his finger. “Yes, but not on the end of my nose.”
“I recall making a cake for you, and someone ate half the frosting, and I didn’t have enough to finish.”
“Your cakes are good enough to stand on their own without frosting.”
“Betty Crocker’s and mine.”
He held his hand down, and she stood mesmerized as he twirled the towel into a twisted length. “What are you doing?”
“Me?” He arched his eyebrows, widening his steel gray eyes. “Nothing.”
That innocent act wasn’t going to work. “Don’t even think about it.” She never could best him in a towel fight. “I don’t even have a towel.”
“You started it.”
She backed out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He followed her around the table and into the kitchen again, twirling the towel tighter and tighter. Finally he had her in the corner by the refrigerator. “Are you going to say you’re sorry for frosting my nose?”
She giggled. “But I’m not!” This was the playful man she had married. How could she apologize for that? Without a towel she had only one offensive move with which to protect herself from his accurate snap. She charged him. Without distance between them he had no weapon. She pushed him back against the counter and snatched the towel from his grasp. She stepped back to twirl the towel, but his arms latched tight around her waist.
“Oops.” She looked up slowly into his stormy gaze, and her breath caught.
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
Nothing. Just stand and stare. Let him make the next move. And move he did, ever so slowly toward her lips. Too slow. Her stomach tightened. She could feel his warm breath caressing her face. Her heart threatened to smash through her chest. She could wait no longer and reached up to meet his lips. She still didn’t know why he left or where he had been, but one thing she sensed on some unconscious level—he had come back for her, and that was what mattered. She slipped her arms around his neck, and he deepened the kiss. It was a hungry embrace, two and a half years overdue.
The door from the garage slammed, and they jumped apart like a pair of teens. “Mom!”
Holding a grocery bag in her hands, her mother glared at Roger.
Roger stepped forward. “Josephine, let me help you.”
“Don’t you dare. And don’t try to sweet talk me as you apparently have my daughter.”
“Mom, please—”
“This is my house, and he’s not welcome here. I come home early to help get things ready for my grandson’s birthday to find the two of you clutched together. He’s caused enough trouble. I would think you of all people would be keenly aware of that fact.” Her mother turned on Roger. “Get out before I call the police.”
Jackie opened her mouth to protest.
“It’s okay. I’ll go.” On his way out he turned back to her. “I won’t go far. And I will be back.”
After he left, Jackie turned to her mother. “I can’t believe you did that!”
Her mother set the bag on the counter. “Someone has to let him know he can’t waltz in and out of your life without consequence. You deserve to be treated better. He’ll think twice before hurting you again.”
And maybe think twice about wanting to come back. “You know what, Mom?” An idea formed as she spoke. “Tomorrow I’m going apartment hunting.” She sho
uld have stuck to her guns and found an apartment two months ago after that blind-date fiasco.
Her mother pulled out a bag of cheesy puffs, RJ’s favorite. “Be reasonable.”
“I’m tired of being reasonable and practical and sensible. I want my husband back, and he wants me.”
“Want him back?”
“He is my husband, and I love him. I always have. I’ve just realized how right this is.” For better or for worse she had vowed. “I belong with my husband. For good or bad I’m supposed to be with him. It’s weird, but I know everything will be all right now.” Whatever took him away, he came back for me.
Her mother continued to pull items from the grocery bag and put them away. “So you would throw caution to the wind. You did that three and a half years ago, and it came back and bit you—hard. And it will again. He left you once; he’ll leave you again. You have RJ to think of this time. He needs a stable home.”
“RJ needs to know his daddy loves him. How can he if his grandma is always berating his father?”
“He’s pulling you in the way he did before, except this time he’s using RJ.”
“He’s not using RJ. Why do you always think the worst of him?”
“He has never shown anything but the worst.” Her mother pulled two large cans of spaghetti-Os with meatballs out of the bottom of the bag—RJ’s favorite meal. They all were served their favorite dinner on their birthday. Except Roger. Her mother had never bothered to ask him what he liked.
Jackie shook her head and headed for her refuge. “I hope to find something by the end of the week and move my stuff this weekend.”
“You’re making a big mistake racing back into this so fast.”
“Mine to make.”
“I don’t want to say I told you so, but—”
Jackie spun around. “Then don’t!”
Her mother pursed her lips. “I can’t say anything to you without your flying off the handle and doing something rash. Just remember your father and I were here for you when you needed us. If you do this, I doubt we’ll be willing to pick up the pieces again when you’re so callous with our feelings.”
In her mother’s eyes, Roger would never be good enough for her. She dismissed her mother’s words with a wave of her hand and hurried downstairs.
Eight
Roger threw away his trash and stepped outside the sandwich shop.
Sweeny sat atop the Harley. “Nice piece of machinery. I’ve always wanted one of these.”
Well, Sweeny wasn’t getting his. “Get off.”
Sweeny chuckled and removed himself. “I want the disc.”
“I don’t have it yet.”
Sweeny made a clicking noise with his tongue. “I know your family means more to you than that. It would be a shame if they had an accident.”
“Leave them out of this.” He clenched his teeth together so hard his jaw hurt.
“A son should have a father. Too bad you won’t be around to raise yours. But your wife’s pretty. She’ll find someone to raise him.”
His anger boiled. He would raise his son. “I’ll have it for you in twenty-four hours.”
Sweeny looked at his watch. “Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. If I don’t have what I want, don’t expect to find your dear Jackie and RJ where you left them.”
“If you touch either one of them—”
Sweeny raised his eyebrows. “Clearly you’re in no position to make demands. I hope you haven’t spilled your guts to that pretty wife of yours.”
“She doesn’t know anything.”
“She’d better not. If I get wind she even suspects anything, her life won’t be worth any more than yours.”
“Stay away from her. I’ve told her nothing.”
“The clock is ticking, Villeroy. Don’t disappoint me.”
He could guarantee Sweeny would be disappointed. He hadn’t spent nearly four years on this operation to let the likes of Sweeny pull it out from under him. No, Sweeny was never good enough to best him. And Sweeny’s biggest mistake came when he threatened his family. He would finish this job and see Sweeny and all the others behind bars. Then he would make amends with Jackie and work on getting his life back.
❧
Roger drove up Glover Street and stopped in front of the Johnson household. Facing his in-laws was more nerve-racking than confronting Sweeny. The door opened, and Jackie stepped out, motioning to him that she’d be there in a moment. Then she disappeared inside the house. He could wait here on the street, and she would come to him. Thank You, Lord. I hope the rest of the evening goes as smoothly.
The door opened again, and Jackie’s father came out and down the walk. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so easy. He turned off the motorcycle and dismounted. “John.”
“Roger.” His father-in-law’s smile failed to reach his eyes. He had developed a bit of a paunch on his slight frame. “She’s getting a jacket.”
“Thanks for taking care of my bike. It runs great.”
“It’s a nice piece of machinery.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. “You let things sit too long, and they aren’t the same as when you left them.”
Jackie wasn’t a thing, but he got the point. “No, but with a little TLC they can be as good as new.”
“Some take more work than others, hard work, and a person could give up too soon.” The older man raised an eyebrow.
“But the effort is worth it.”
“If a person gave up, things could be worse than before.”
“I’m not a man who gives up easily.” If at all. He would spend the rest of his life proving it to Jackie. If the Lord gave him that chance.
“Good.”
Jackie came out and joined them. She wore her matching black leather jacket he had bought her after they were married.
Her father looked at her, then back at Roger. “We’d like to invite you to dinner.”
“Josephine’s not too keen on me,” Roger said.
“She’s had a chance to cool off.”
He nodded. “Then I look forward to it.”
“Jackie’s next night off is Saturday. How about then?” his father-in-law asked.
“Sounds good.” It would give him enough time to finish what he needed to do and let things start settling down.
Jackie hopped on behind him, and they drove away. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his back the way she used to. He wanted to keep driving. He stopped some twenty miles away at a remote pond tucked in the pine trees they used to frequent. He stood for a long time gazing at the moon’s reflection on the pond with Jackie snuggled up to his side. He didn’t want to spoil it yet with talk.
❧
Things had gone well this morning—until her mother returned home. She was glad Roger had come back again today and not waited until tomorrow. She could tell he was being introspective. Though she didn’t know his thoughts, she sensed they were heavy.
Roger shifted his position slightly and cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”
This was it, the defining moment of their future. The tone of his voice told her so. And intuition told her she didn’t want to hear it. No—she wanted to but not yet. She turned toward him.
“It doesn’t matter right now.” She placed both hands on either side of his face, and he put his around her waist. She just needed to touch him and be touched. She needed the connection. She drew closer and kissed him.
Roger pulled her closer still and deepened the kiss. She didn’t want to let go, but he pulled back from her. “Jackie, it does matter.”
Not yet. She tried to step away from him, but he held his hands fast.
“I’m in a bit of a fix. You know that so-called rock and hard place?”
She cocked her head to the left. “What’s that supposed to mean? A fix? Like trouble? Like a bloody cell phone? Like ‘away,’ ‘all over,’ and ‘it was best?’ ” Instinct told her to run. She stepped away from him this time. This was why he came back! Because
he was in a fix! She took another step back. No! He came back for her and RJ—because he loved her. He had to. Another step.
“I need your help.” He took a step toward her.
She stepped back again, shaking her head. No, he came back for her, just for her. The pine needles crunched beneath her shoes as she continued her retreat.
“Just one small thing. That’s all I need.” He held his hands out in appeal as he approached.
One small thing but not her. She turned to flee.
He caught her quickly. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
Tears burned her eyes as his touch burned her heart.
“There was an envelope, Jackie, in my dresser drawer. I need it!”
Tears came free and cascaded down her cheeks. He hadn’t come for her after all. She let the well-worn veil of numbness fall over her.
“The envelope, Jackie—what did you do with it?”
Envelope?
“Please, Jackie, remember.”
There was no envelope. Only her. “It got thrown away. A lot of things did when Mom and Dad helped me move.”
Roger’s hands slipped from her. “No.” His single utterance held only despair.
She wanted to say she was sorry, but she wasn’t. With an ache she had never known before, she turned and walked away, through the darkened woods away from this stranger she had thought she loved. Anger boiled inside her. How could he do this to her?
He caught up to her. “Are you sure you threw it away? You save everything.”
“I can’t help you, Roger. You can go away again. Sorry you wasted a trip.” She slapped at the tears coursing down her face.
Roger cupped her elbow. “I’ll take you home. I’ve got some fast figuring to do.”
She yanked free and kept her feet pointed toward home. Her parents were right in cautioning her against rushing into marriage with a man she hardly knew.
“You can’t walk all the way.”
She gritted her teeth and balled her fists. “Watch me.”
“It’s over twenty miles.” He stopped.
Before long she heard his Harley roar to life, then pull up beside her. “Get on. I can’t let you walk.”
She stopped and faced him. “Sure you can. Just ride off into the sunset or sunrise or whatever direction you came from, and don’t worry about me.”
