“Well—”
“What’s your favorite kind? I mean your over-the-moon-and-back-again favorite flower. I bet it’s the same as mine, betcha it is!” She wiggled in her seat.
“I don’t really have a—”
“Oh, come on. Sure you do. You might not think about it all the time, I understand, men and women are different and we don’t always think about the same things, but if you dig deep, deep, deep, there’s an answer there, I promise you.” She paused and poked him lightly in the arm with a forefinger whose nail was bright yellow. “And I want to hear it.”
Jake stared at the woman’s expectant eyes and tried not to laugh. She nodded and he realized she wouldn’t stop till he gave her an answer.
“Sunflowers?”
“Oooooooooo! Are you serious? You can’t be serious, but I know you are! Sunflowers are mine too!” Maggie bounced in her seat and glanced back and forth between Jake and Peter. “Yes, yes, yes! Can you believe that? Can you? Can you?”
“No, I can’t.”
She turned to Peter and punched him in the arm. “Stick me with a pin if you don’t think that’s the most wonderful dollop of sugar you’ve ever tasted!” She laughed again. “But not too hard with that pin. Ha!”
Jake endured another ten minutes before he excused himself, leaving the woman with a look on her face that seemed to say, “Aren’t you going to ask for my hand in blessed matrimony first?”
“Peter, I’ll call you tonight.”
When he reached Peter that evening, Jake muttered, “I’m going to kill you.”
“She gets nervous meeting men.”
“I’m going to maim you first.”
“She’s not usually like that. Really. That was weird. I’ve never seen her like that. If you give her a chance—”
“You let her sell for you? You let her represent your company?”
“Probably not for long. I didn’t hire her. But—”
“Please tell me that was a joke, setting me up with her. You really thought I’d like her?”
“Like I said, she got nervous. I didn’t expect that and it was over the top, but—”
“She was a wacko. Like all the rest.”
“Not the one that you met last month. She was cool. You guys truly connected, didn’t you? Tell me I was wrong with her. And what about the one four months back? Are you telling me you didn’t like her either?”
It was true. Both of those women were interesting and Jake had liked them. But it didn’t matter what he thought of them, or even what they thought of him.
“It makes not the slightest difference if any of them are great, not great, weird, not weird, or somewhere in between, I’m not going to date ever again. You know this. You know why.”
“You gotta get over that.”
“Until you’ve lived it, don’t judge it. You can’t imagine.”
“I’m just trying to help. Get you to have some fun. Get back on the dating circuit.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Ever?”
“Ding! I think he’s got it, folks. Ever. Next time you’re tempted to go Jake stalking with a woman in tow, repeat this phrase: ‘Jake is never going to date again. King Arthur will return to Britain before Jake gets into a relationship, so I’m not going to try to set him up ever again.’ Got it?”
“Got it.”
“You promise you’ll never do this to me again, right?”
“I swear.”
Deep down, Jake appreciated Peter’s persistence. God said it wasn’t good for man to be alone. Didn’t Jake know it. But unless God had a major renovation plan for his body, he’d be alone for the rest of his life.
A few weeks later Jake went to Peter’s office to pick him up for a Mariners game. While sitting in the lobby waiting, Jake spied a kayaking magazine, picked it up, and quickly became engrossed in an article about two men and one woman who had shot the Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone River in less than twelve hours. An incredible accomplishment.
“Excuse me.”
The voice sliced through his study of the article, and Jake dropped the magazine to find a striking dark-haired woman in a dark blue and gray skirt gazing down on him, trying not to laugh.
“Yes?” Jake blinked and caught the look in her eyes. “That’s not the first time you tried to get my attention, is it?”
“No.” She smiled. Playful green eyes. In an earlier life he would have allowed himself to be attracted to her.
“I think it was my third attempt to get your attention. Maybe the fourth.” She pointed at the magazine. “You must have found an interesting article.”
“Yeah, I did.” Jake opened the magazine and pointed to the article. “How to be stupid crazy in a tiny little boat and have the time of your life doing it.”
“You’ve done this?” She pointed to a photo Jake had been studying a moment ago.
“A few times, but not on rivers like that one. I’m not that stupid and not that crazy. But I will admit a big part of me wishes I could do it.”
“It’s such an invigorating sport.” She smiled. Nice smile. Very nice. “You’re a kayaker?”
“About five years now. You?”
“Going on fourteen months.” The woman pulled one leg behind the other and Jake couldn’t help but notice the curve of her calves. Lyrical.
“You like it?” Jake asked.
“I love it.” She sat on the edge of the leather chair on the other side of the glass coffee table. “But I feel like I’m still getting started, nothing too tough yet.”
“Have you been anywhere interesting?” Jake glanced at her, then looked back at the magazine. If he stared at her eyes too long, he might never find his way out of them.
“I did the Rogue River in Oregon with some friends last summer.”
“That’s such a great trip. Stunning beauty, nice smooth stretches, and some really fun white water.”
Jake studied the woman. No wedding ring. She wasn’t flirting. Yet she wasn’t going away. There had to be a reason . . . wait. Right. Duh. She’d interrupted him for something more than small talk. Before he could voice his realization, she pointed at the magazine for the second time.
“That’s my magazine.”
“Whoops.” Jake tilted his head back and a laugh puffed out. “I saw it lying on the chair over there and assumed it belonged to the office.”
“No, I should have taken it with me. I dropped it there, went back to my office to get something, and—”
“Here.” Jake reached over the coffee table to hand it to her.
“Would you like to keep it?”
“No, but thanks.”
The woman smiled and took the magazine. “You’re a friend of Peter’s?”
“Yeah, Jake Palmer.” Jake stood and offered his hand.
She took it. “Ari Conwell.”
“Pleasure. You work for Peter?”
“For nine months now.”
“You’ve been able to stand him for that long? I’m impressed.”
Ari smiled. “He’s told me a lot about you, Jake Palmer.”
“Oh?”
“He says life rarely gives people friends like you.”
“Yeah, sorry you had to hear that. Peter is getting mushy in his old age.”
Before Ari could respond, Peter strode out of his office and clapped his hands. “Clark, sorry to keep you waiting. Be right there. Just need to grab something out of the conference room.”
As Peter rushed by them, Ari frowned. “I thought you said your name was Jake.”
“It is.” Jake started to explain, then stopped himself. “It’s a long story.”
“Nice to meet you, Jake. Clark.” She smiled and reached for his hand.
“You too.” He gave her fingers a quick squeeze and let go. “But no Clark. Just Jake.”
“Okay.”
Again the smile. Intoxicating, but what he saw behind the smile was even deadlier. Time to move.
“Take care, Ari.” Jake motioned d
own the hall with his thumb. “I’m going to use the restroom.”
But before he could step away, Peter marched up to them. “Ari, Jake. Jake, Ari. But I’m sure you already introduced yourselves.”
“Yeah.” Jake focused on Peter. “Ready?”
They’d walked out without Jake repeating his good-bye to Ari. He’d almost turned as they reached the front door of Peter’s office, but he didn’t give in to the temptation.
“Jake? You with me?”
Peter’s voice brought Jake back to the present. He blinked at his friend, who was now standing at the corner of the deck overlooking the lush lawn.
“Yeah, I’m with you.”
Peter pointed at a spot on the slope below. “I’m thinking that would be a good spot for our Cowboy Golf tourney later this week.”
“Sure. Perfect.”
“I need to get back in, keep working on this meal. Camille told me she could watch things for a few minutes, but, uh . . .” Peter pointed at him on the way back to the kitchen. “And get ready, I have a fun surprise for everyone coming just before we chow.”
Jake tried to believe the surprise would be a good one. But at the moment, he didn’t have enough faith.
10
Andrew stood with his thick arms outstretched at forty-five degrees, hands braced on the door frame of Jake’s room, his rugged, six-two body filling the opening.
“What’s Peter’s surprise?”
“No idea,” Jake said.
Andrew glanced around the small room and then at the twin bed Jake sat on. “Nice bed. Nice décor. Looks like a girl’s room.”
“Probably was, but this is the room the single guy gets. But hey”—Jake pointed at a long bookshelf to his right—“pretty decent collection of kids’ books. Takes me back.”
“That’s good?”
“One of the best escapes from my dad.”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Andrew pointed at the book in Jake’s hand. “What’s that one?”
“The Silver Chair. C. S. Lewis.”
“I’ve heard of it. A King Arthur story, right?”
“No. You know The Chronicles of Narnia? You’ve heard of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, right?”
“Sure.”
“That’s the first one of seven—in the original order anyway. The Silver Chair is the fourth book in the series. Far and away my favorite. Probably read it five times before I turned twelve.”
“That’s the one about the girls who become queens.”
“Actually it’s about a prince named Rilian, who is the only heir to the throne of Narnia, and his father is dying. Rilian vanished ten years earlier and the kingdom’s greatest champions have disappeared or been killed trying to find him. Because of this, even though his heart is broken, the elderly king forbids anyone else from searching for Prince Rilian. So the great lion Aslan sends two children from our world to find and rescue him. They eventually find him deep in the earth. He’s been enchanted by a witch, who turns out to be a serpent, but in the end they set him free from his enchantment. The end.”
“Rilian forgot who he was.”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like a good one. Really good.”
They stared at each other, Andrew’s eyes telling Jake something so clear, he didn’t want to admit it.
“Listen, J, I’m never going to be as eloquent as my better three-quarters, but let me just say I care about what you’re going through just as much as Susie does. You’re going to make it out the other side of this tunnel. Find out who you are again.”
Andrew lumbered over to the bed, plopped down next to Jake, threw his arm around Jake’s neck, and yanked him close. “And you know I’m here for you no matter what. Yeah?”
A shout came from downstairs. Sounded like Camille. “Dinner! Now!”
Andrew shook his head and grinned. “I think we better roll.”
“No doubt.”
Three minutes later they all sat around the myrtlewood table now filled with Peter’s culinary wizardry. Before they began to dine, Susie gave her glass a quick rap with her fork and they turned their attention to her. “I’d like to propose a toast to our tenth year of being together.”
“Hear, hear,” Peter said.
But before Susie could begin, a knock on the front door echoed through the room. Jake turned to Peter and frowned, but his friend was already on his feet, loping toward the entry. He glanced around the table. Susie gave him a nervous look. Andrew had a sudden interest in studying his food. Camille gave him a Cheshire-cat smile and Jake’s stomach clenched. Peter’s surprise was a person? This would not be good.
Jake twisted in his seat toward the front door, but his vision was blocked by the fireplace.
“You made it.” Peter’s voice was soft but Jake still heard the smile wrapped around his greeting.
A softer voice, female, said, “So sorry I’m late. Got a little lost after I found the town.”
“I’m just glad you chose to come.”
“Didn’t think I was going to.”
“But you did. A wise decision. You’re going to have a great time. I promise.”
Then silence. Knowing Peter, he was giving this new arrival a quick hug.
Their voices grew softer and he couldn’t make out the words. Jake stared at Susie, who sat at the end of the table and had a view of the front door. She glanced at him with a mix of compassion and expectation in her eyes, and Jake knew he was going to administer a slow death to Peter as soon as he had the chance.
His ol’ buddy Pete had grabbed the brass ring of romance and melted it down into a yellow, misshapen glob. This was beyond awkward setups and chance meetings. It was a betrayal and without question would ruin the week.
“Ready?” Peter’s voice filled the room.
“Sure.”
“Good. Here we go, you’re about to be onstage.” Peter laughed and their footsteps echoed on the maple hardwood floors.
A second later, Jake’s heart rate spiked. It was her. Ari. The woman he’d met in Peter’s office. Same long dark hair, trim figure, those eyes that without question hid a great deal behind them, and skin that had seen more of the sun since he’d met her back in May. He looked away and ignored the feelings that tried to surface.
“Friends,” Peter said, “I’d like to introduce you to a buddy of Camille’s and mine, Ari Conwell. As a result of significant arm-twisting and constant nagging, not to mention the fact that she works for me, she’s agreed to join us for part of the week. That way when we play games that require pairs, the teams will be even. That’s the entire reason Ari is here. Nothing more.”
Ari grinned and lifted her hands in mock surrender.
“Don’t worry. I warned her that we like to go deeper than most folks with our conversations and she’s okay with that.” Peter glanced at Ari. “Mostly okay. I told her she could plead the fifth at any time during the week. But no more than once of course.”
Jake again glanced at the faces of his friends. None of them looked surprised at seeing this party crasher. Not a big shocker.
“I’ll get to intros in a second, but first a bit about Ari. I met her eleven months ago when she started working at my company and she almost immediately became part of the group that gathers at our home every Wednesday night. She’s lived in the Northwest most of her years and now spends her days helping me negotiate contracts.” Peter rubbed his hands together and glanced at Ari. “Now, let me tell you a few snippets about these ragamuffins around the table.”
He pointed at the head of the table. “That’s Susie Hawthorne. Susie was born in Minnesota but moved to the San Fran Bay area with her family in third grade, and she’s been there ever since. She’s an indie singer-songwriter with a solid career going, and she’s still crazy about the Minnesota Vikings even though she hasn’t lived there for, uh, a number of years, and they’re one of only two teams to go to the Super Bowl four times and never win. No, we can’t figure out why she still loves them either.
&
nbsp; “Next to her is her husband, Andrew. He’s into high tech and systems, one of those people who actually understands security and computers and is smarter than I could ever be even with three lifetimes of brains. Plus he has the most amazing collection of Hot Wheels cars you’ll ever see in your life.
“They have three sons and one daughter, and they’ve been known to start making out in the middle of dinner, card games, or on the water out in the boat with all of us there. You’ve been warned.”
“We do not!” Peter ducked as Susie tossed a roll at his head.
“Camille you know, which brings us to the legendary Jake Palmer, who you met briefly in my office in May. He’s been my best friend in the world and universe and beyond since our first day of college together and is generally regarded as one of the best corporate trainers on the planet. At least that’s what he tells me, but I’ve never really believed him and you shouldn’t either.”
Jake tried to smile but he was certain it came across as more of a grimace. Ari gave him a little wave and a tiny smile that threatened to drag those asinine feelings up out of his gut. “Okay.” Peter clapped his hands. “Let’s grab you a plate and a chair and a glass.”
A few minutes later, Ari sat next to Susie, directly across the table from Jake. At least Peter wasn’t sadistic enough to seat Ari beside him, but directly across from him was almost as bad.
Peter nodded at Susie. “Now how ’bout that toast?”
Susie stood and glanced at each of them before she began.
“To old friends, and new friends we’re soon to grow close to.” She tipped her glass to Ari. “Ten years of friendship is a long time. Most friendships come and go. But not ours, no, not ours. Isn’t there a little voice deep inside that says we’ll still be toasting our little group in another ten years? In another twenty? I’m certainly hearing that voice. So here’s to a week of love and laughter and adventure and celebrating life, going deep and seizing the unquenchable future. And remember, it’s not a true toast unless you look in everyone’s eyes before you drink and hold their gaze for at least a second. To us!”
The Long Journey to Jake Palmer Page 7
