“Sorry,” Emily finally said as she took her seat. “I haven’t seen her for over a year. Can you believe we picked the same night to have dinner out?”
“Amazing,” Jo mumbled.
Emily missed the sarcasm in Jo’s voice and quickly launched into a recital of everything she and their mother had done to prepare for the wedding in the past week. Jo only caught part of it, the part where her mother had promised to pay for the flowers and the caterer, which meant that Jo would be paying for it. Great. Another debt to add to her growing financial instability. That promotion sure would have come in handy right about then.
Jo picked at her food, not really in the mood for the veal parmesan she had ordered. Emily happily chattered on. Jo looked across the table at her and had a sudden memory of a time when she was eight and Emily was three. She remembered Emily had just begun speaking in full sentences and suddenly her silent, agreeable little sister had become an argumentative rival. Jo couldn’t remember what it was that they were arguing about, but she remembered that her feelings had been terribly hurt and it seemed like nothing could make it better. And then Emily toddled up to her where she was pouting in a window seat in their shared bedroom and placed a tiny hand on her wrist. “Sorry, Jo,” she had said in her sweet baby voice. It still made Jo smile when she remembered that moment, remembered how surprised she was by Emily’s perception of her emotional state. It was a moment that had brought everything into sharp focus, reminding Jo that she would only ever have this one sister, this one best friend, for better and for worse.
“What are you thinking about?” Emily suddenly asked.
Jo shook her head. “I love you, Em.”
Emily’s eyes widened and for a moment Jo saw her as that tiny little toddler with pigtails and a perpetual smile. Then Emily reached across the table and took Jo’s hand. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“I know you, Jo. I know something’s bothering you. Is it the wedding?”
“No.” Jo squeezed Emily’s hand before pulling away. “I’m so happy for you, Emily. I want you to have a perfect wedding.”
Emily tilted her head, her eyes growing dreamy. “I just want to be Mrs. Ryan Henderson. This wedding is mostly for Mom, you know?”
“I know,” Jo said. “She’s been planning this since the day you were born.”
“It’s so important to her that we do everything just so. I never really thought about all the details, all the things that go into a wedding. And telling Mom that we just want a nice, simple church wedding is like telling her we want to elope.”
“How did it go with his parents?” Jo asked, remembering Emily’s excuse for not driving her to the mechanic, an excuse that set up the painful episode with Mark. Jo tried to push the memory from her thoughts, but it was easier said than done.
“They were great. Ryan’s dad is a history professor and he talked all night about the places he’s gone, the things he’s seen. It would have been fascinating if I’d known half of what he was talking about.”
Jo nodded, remembering a brief conversation she had had with Mr. Henderson during her brief relationship with Ryan. She remembered thinking that they would have a lot to talk about when they finally met. All those weekends of watching Civil War documentaries with her dad would finally pay off.
“I bet they loved you,” she said aloud.
Emily shrugged. “Mr. Henderson was really nice, but Ryan’s mom told him that she thought I was a little too flighty for him. Can you believe that? I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”
“She just hasn’t gotten to know you yet. In time she will come to love you, Em. Everyone always does.”
A sadness came into Emily’s eyes. “They would have loved you.”
Jo shook her head. “I’m not the one their son wants to marry.”
“You should be.” Emily sighed. “I’m not like them. He’s a history professor and she’s a doctor. I dropped out of college after two semesters. We have nothing in common.”
“You have Ryan.” Jo studied Emily’s face, unsure how to deal with her sudden self-doubt. Emily had never doubted herself before. Everyone loved Emily. No one ever had a bad word to say about her. She had never had to face the naysayers Jo faced every day. It suddenly hit Jo just how much Emily really must love Ryan if she was allowing this to bother her.
Jo reached over and took Emily’s hand. “You’re not marrying Ryan’s parents. You’re marrying him. If they love him as much as you do, I’m sure they will come to love you.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jo,” Emily sighed with a grateful smile.
Chapter 14
A week passed and then another. All Jo could think about was Mark. Sometimes she would catch herself staring out the window, thoughts of him pulling her head out of her work in a way nothing before had ever done. Work had always been something of a salvation for Jo, something she could always rely on to be her rock, her escape, in a world grown too hostile to deal with. It was predictable. She knew what it wanted from her and how to provide it. But now even work couldn’t soothe the hurt that Mark’s absence left her with.
It only took a few days for Jo to realize she had to be the one to make this right. From the beginning, Mark had always sought her out, had always come to her first. Now it was clear that she was going to have to go to him. For some reason she didn’t understand, he needed her to be the one to make the next move. The only problem was, she didn’t know how.
Again, her fear of confrontation had her paralyzed. What if he rejected her as he had done before? What if he laughed at her? What if he really just didn’t want her in his life? What if?
It was the what-ifs that made it impossible for her act.
“Jo?”
Jo looked up from her desk as Sandy let herself in. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Becca wants you to deliver that report on last year’s safety record to Kathleen before five.”
Jo sat back, flipping through the files on her desk. “I thought I turned that in yesterday.”
“You did.”
Jo half nodded, aware of what Becca was up to. She thought Jo had turned in everything she had on the report and therefore would be unprepared. Becca had been going out of her way to make Jo look bad in front of Kathleen ever since learning about the email she had sent about the promotion, an email Kathleen had seen two days after making her final decision. But, so far, Jo had been one step ahead of Becca.
“I guess it’s a good thing I backed it up on the hard drive, then.”
Sandy smiled, clearly relieved. “Good girl,” she said.
Jo printed a second copy of the report and slipped on her shoes, smoothed down her skirt, and made her way out of the office. She spotted Mark almost immediately. He was leaning against one of the flimsy walls of a cubical, having what appeared to be an animated conversation with Beth. At least it was highly animated on her part. But, then again, Beth couldn’t talk without waving her arms around with great enthusiasm. Mark looked almost bored even as he tried to keep an interested expression on his face. Jo smiled sympathetically when their eyes met. A huge mistake.
Mark straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, his body language shutting Jo out before anything could start. She couldn’t keep the pain out of her eyes even as what was left of her self-respect forced her to continue, unimpeded, in his direction. He continued to watch her and for a minute she thought she saw the same hurt in his eyes, but then he stepped back out of her path and said something she couldn’t hear to Beth. Beth laughed with a quick glance at Jo. Jo kept walking, leaving them in her wake with more confidence than she felt.
Blinking away tears, Jo knocked on Kathleen’s office door.
“Hi, Jo,” Kathleen said with genuine affection as Jo entered her office.
“Becca said you wanted a copy of the safety report.”
Kathleen tapped a packet of papers on her desk. “Already have it. And I must say, you have done a w
onderful job, as usual.”
“Thank you.”
Jo turned to leave, but Kathleen stopped her.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.”
Kathleen stood and walked around the desk, waving Jo into a chair. Kathleen perched on the edge of her desk and studied Jo for a minute. “How long have you worked here?” she asked.
“Five years.”
“Do you like the work?”
“Very much,” Jo said, wondering where this was going.
“If that’s true, then I find myself wondering why you didn’t try harder for that promotion. Becca was in here almost from the minute Kurt informed me of his resignation. But you…” Kathleen sighed. “You are such a hard worker, Jo. You could have so much potential. But you never seem willing to fight for anything.”
Jo stared into her lap, unable to express the shame those words washed over her. Kathleen reached down and cupped Jo’s chin, forcing her to look up. “I don’t usually give pep talks. I simply don’t have the patience to coddle employees. But I like you. So I feel like I need to tell you, if you don’t start standing up for yourself around here, your opportunities for advancement will disappear. And then there will be no reason to keep you around. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jo said in a soft, defeated tone.
A disappointed frown marred Kathleen’s soft, matriarchic features. Then she waved Jo away.
Jo was in the bathroom, hiding in a stall ten minutes later when she heard a couple of her coworkers walk in. Annoyed at their presence at a time when she wanted to be alone, she drew her feet up and hugged her knees to her chest. She wasn’t about to give any of these juvenile personalities the knowledge that she had a heart that had been broken so many times over the past few weeks that she might never put all the pieces together again. And she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that she had been crying.
Not that they would have noticed.
“I heard he just went through a bad divorce. His wife took him for everything he had, even his pension from the Army.”
“Beth says that he has primary custody of his two kids because of his wife’s instability.”
“I heard that, too.”
“What kind of woman could cheat on a gorgeous guy like him?”
Jo heard water running, drowning out the voices for a second. Then the first woman said, “…I guess he’ll be making up for lost time, though. And I plan to be at the top of that list.”
Their voices faded as they left the room. Jo laid her cheek on her knee and thought about what they had said. They knew more about Mark than she had learned in several weeks of conversations with him. Jo began to think about what Kathleen had said, about how she was going to become useless if she didn’t begin to fight for herself. Even Mark had said she had to sell herself if she ever hoped to get what she wanted. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time she stood up for herself.
Jo straightened when she saw him come out of the building. He strode toward her quickly, the slump of his shoulders belying his confident gait as though he carried the weight of the world on them. When he saw her, he paused in his step, glancing around as though looking for some sort of escape. For a second she thought he might go back into the building and take with him the last thread of strength that kept her upright. But then he continued toward her, albeit a little slower.
“I don’t have time for this right now, Jo,” he said.
Jo stepped aside, clearing his way to the driver’s door of his truck. “I won’t keep you but a minute. I just wanted to apologize.”
Mark glanced at her, clearly surprised. “For what?”
“For what happened between us. I never meant to ruin our friendship.”
“Jo—”
“You don’t know how important our friendship is to me, Mark. You made it clear that was all you wanted and I stepped over the line—”
“It wasn’t just you.”
Jo clasped her hands tightly together in front of her, trying hard not to fidget. “It was me and I am so sorry. I miss you, Mark, I miss the easiness between us, the advice and the food—”
“Please, Jo,” he groaned. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”
Jo shook her head, confused by the pain she heard in his voice. “I’m not trying to make anything hard. I just want things to be like they were before. Can’t we do that?”
Mark turned away, clearly unaware of how very difficult it was for her to say these things, to confront him this way. But she couldn’t let him go without fighting, so she was fighting the only way she knew how.
“I’m okay with just being your friend, Mark. I know you’ve had a hard time and that you’re struggling to put your life back together. And I know I’m not what you need in a romantic partner. So I’m okay with friendship if you are.”
“Jo, you don’t understand.” He shifted enough so that she could see his face in the light of a nearby streetlamp. Again there was pain in his voice, in his eyes. “Things are just too complicated in my life right now.”
“I know,” she said, braving to touch his arm lightly. Briefly. “But that’s how I know you need a friend now more than ever.”
He shook his head. “Jo—”
“And I know I could sure use one,” she said quietly, hoping the plea in her voice didn’t sound too desperate.
He hesitated. Just for a moment he hesitated, staring down at the keys in his hand. Then he nodded, as though he had made a decision. “Why don’t we…why don’t we go get dinner somewhere.”
Jo nodded, a subtle movement that belied the happy pounding of her heart. “I’d like that.”
Chapter 15
They went to a little steak house half way between the office and her apartment. Jo knew it well and was pleased when the hostess remembered her and led them to a prime table in a secluded section of the dining room.
“You come here a lot?” Mark asked.
“I used to, but it’s been a while. I’m surprised she remembered me.”
“You’re memorable.”
Jo blushed at the compliment, but figured her habit of tipping over the average fifteen percent had more to do with it.
“So, what’s good here?”
“Hmm, the prime rib is excellent. But you’ve never had ribs like their baby back ribs.”
“Then the ribs it is,” Mark said with a smile.
They ordered the same thing, a huge pile of ribs and French fries, along with a bottle of Zinfandel. Jo made herself stay conscious of the amount of wine she was drinking, aware that social situations often made her drink more than she should. Tonight, however, she wanted to be present, to be aware of everything that was happening, instead of dulling the edges as she often desired.
“So how’s life been?” Mark asked over his own wine glass, and then he chuckled at himself. “That was completely cheesy.”
“Yes, it was,” Jo agreed. “But it’s better than, so I hear you lost out on that promotion. Or, how’s the wedding you’re planning for your sister and ex-boyfriend going?”
Mark inclined his head slightly. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He studied her for a minute, his gaze almost unnerving, as though he could see right through her. “How are you?” he asked with gentle compassion.
Jo dipped her finger into her wine and rubbed it against the rim of the glass. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “It’s been a difficult few months.”
“But you still get up and face the morning each day.”
“That’s saying something, isn’t it?” Jo asked.
“Yes, it is.”
It was her turn to study him. “And what about you? How are you?”
He shrugged. “I still get pleasure from seeing my children. From listening to music and watching old movies. So I guess I’m still doing alright.”
“Old movies?” Jo asked. “What kind of old movies?”
“Westerns mostly, I guess. John Wayne and Clint Eastwoo
d. That kind.”
“Like The Sons of Katie Elder? Or Pale Rider?”
Mark’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. You know their movies?”
“Sure. My dad was a huge fan. We used to sneak down to his workshop on the weekends and watch them together.”
“Really?” Mark grinned. “What’s your favorite?”
“That’s tough,” Jo said, sitting back and pretending to think about it for a minute. “I think my all-time favorite is The Shootist.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mark agreed. “That is definitely the Duke’s best in his later years. Almost like his own eulogy. But I think some of his earlier films are even better. There has never been a film like Red River.”
“Is that the one where Montgomery Cliff played his son?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s a good one, too. But I still think The Shootist is his best.”
“Then we agree to disagree,” Mark said as the waiter arrived with their meal.
Jo dug in immediately, unsure when she had last had an appetite. The food was amazing, with just the right amount of spice on the ribs and the perfect crunch to the fries. Jo laughed when Mark poured ketchup all over his fries, getting a big glob on the sleeve of his blue button down. He rolled his eyes at her and then used a wet wipe to dab at the stain.
“I can’t take you anywhere,” she sighed.
“I guess not.” He shook his head, as though giving up any pretense at trying to be neat. He picked up a thick, gooey rib and took a big bite, leaving stains of barbecue sauce on his cheeks. Jo laughed again, then did the same.
“Nobody ever said barbecue was a neat freak’s meal of choice,” Mark said as he wiped some of the greasy mess from his face.
“I’ve never met anyone who could eat ribs daintily. Though I’ve seen a few try.”
“A lack of stain suggests you didn’t enjoy the meal.”
“Well, then, I think it is very clear that we are enjoying this very much.”
Mark chuckled in agreement.
From Now On Page 6
