by Leanna Sain
The woman was breathless by the time she reached us. A delicate wave of expensive perfume caught me in its wake. “Jonas! It’s so good to see you again!”
“What are you doing here, Jill?” he asked in a dead-sounding voice.
Jill?
“I don’t see you for three years and that’s the response I get?” Her light laughter held a hint of reproach, then she glanced at me. “You must be Cleo.”
Hold on! I blinked in surprise. She knew my name? How could she know my name, and I not know a thing about her? Who was this woman? I narrowed my eyes at Jonas. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” I asked him.
I watched the muscles work in his jaw before he spoke. “Cleo…meet Jill Parker. Jill…this is Cleo Davis.”
So…this was Jill. I remembered the night at Moon River when I’d seen her name on his phone and my heart sank. The sophisticated, obviously professional woman standing in front of me made me feel like the gauche school girl that I was, and threatened to drag the old Cleo back from where I’d banished her. What was this woman doing here? Was she a doctor? Did she work here? Visiting someone? What?
Jill acknowledged the introduction with the briefest flicker of a smile in my general direction before turning her attention back to Jonas. Her laughter trilled. “Oh, Jonas, surely you can do better than that, darling.” One of her finely plucked eyebrows rose, and she rested her well-manicured left hand on his arm in a very he’s-mine-so-don’t-get-any-ideas kind of way, giving it a gentle squeeze. “After all, I am your fiancée.”
Time stopped. The earth tilted a little further on its axis, before everything sort of…crashed. I caught a flash of a diamond ring on the hand clutching Jonas’ arm, and a brief glimpse of his stricken expression, before I spun around and dashed toward the elevators. My eyes were so full of tears, I didn’t know how I kept from bowling over the orderly pushing the meal cart, but somehow I managed to zigzag around him. As I skidded to a stop in front of the bank of elevators, I thought I heard Jonas shout my name, but by that time I was sobbing so hard that I might’ve imagined it. One set of doors were just sliding shut, and without knowing whether the elevator was going up or down, I slipped in.
The doors shut in Jonas’ anguished face.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cleo
I looked at the grade on the evaluation sheet and tried to smile. Dr. Hudson had given me an “A,” and even added “Exceptional work” in the comment section. Everybody knew he didn’t hand out that sort of praise. I should be happy, but that emotion was something I hadn’t felt in a while. Three months, ten days to be exact. I refused to look at my watch to figure the hours. I could probably even figure the minutes and seconds. Pitiful, I know.
In addition to the good grade, my paintings of Lily had been chosen, with two other students’ work, for a celebrated “Faces of Savannah” exhibit in Morris Hall at school. As soon as I’d found out, I’d called Lily up in Mt. Pleasant where she lived now with Michael. They’d gotten married soon after she’d been released from the hospital and he’d moved her to his house there, where he could take care of her. Who better for the job? With him being a surgeon at St. Francis, she couldn’t be in better hands.
Though I missed her terribly, I was so glad for her. If anybody deserved a fairytale ending, it was that amazing lady. What I still had a hard time believing was that her sister had made it all possible. If it hadn’t been for Rose, those two love birds would’ve probably never found each other again. Even now, I couldn’t believe how it had all worked out.
The morning after the show-down in the tunnel, when I’d gone into the bathroom to get dressed before rushing to the hospital, I’d been greeted with a mirror full of graffiti.
My first thought had been that Minnie had scrawled an angry message for me. Upon further examination, I realized it was a name and phone number, scrawled in lipstick—which is something I didn’t wear and neither did Minnie. I’m strictly a gloss kind of girl.
But it was definitely lipstick, and it was red…bright red…the exact color of the flash I’d seen in the tunnel the night before when Lily had screamed her sister’s name. In that moment I knew the message—big crimson letters scribbled across the mirror—was from Rose; a long-overdue attempt to undo a wrong.
Dr. Michael Weston, widower, followed by a phone number.
Michael? Could this possibly be the same Michael from Lily’s past? There was only one way to find out. Without giving myself time to talk myself out of it, I had pressed the numbers and then, SEND; waited for someone to pick up on the other end.
“Hello?” It was only one word, but it seemed to exude strength and confidence.
“Dr. Weston? Dr. Michael Weston?”
“Speaking.”
“My name is Cleo Davis. You don’t know me, but I’m hoping you know a friend of mine…Lily. Lily Telfair-Gordon. Is this the right Michael?”
The long, crackly silence stretched for such a long time that I glanced at the screen of my phone to make sure I hadn’t lost the call.
“What’s this all about, young lady?” he finally asked, his voice gruff, now
“I don’t have time to go into everything, so listen fast and don’t ask questions. Lily has been shot.” I heard him gasp and hurried on. “She’s okay, but she’s at St. Joseph’s here in Savannah. I’m on my way there now. I just thought you should know. Gotta run. Bye.”
****
In retrospect, I felt sort of bad about dropping a bombshell like that, and then hanging up. He was pretty old, too. I could’ve given the poor man a heart attack. I found out later that he’d basically commandeered the St. Francis hospital helicopter in Charleston, ordering an emergency flight to Savannah. That’s how he’d arrived before us.
Rose’s penance for the terrible wrong she’d done to her sister all those years ago, had worked out beautifully, but she’d also done something to help me heal.
I hadn’t known it, but Lily had asked her sister to locate Aunt Patricia and find out why she’d hated me so much. Believe it or not, Rose had been able to do just that. I now knew the whole story: my mother’s willful defiance against her aunt, her eloping with her tutor, my father…the same man poor Aunt Patricia had fallen for; the betrayal she’d never gotten over.
When I’d arrived in Savannah, looking almost exactly like my mother, all of Aunt Patricia’s bottled-up bitterness came boiling out. She’d transferred all those hurts and negative feelings to me, since my mother was no longer around for her to blame. I’d been the scapegoat; the one who had to pay for my mother’s “sin.” No, it wasn’t fair—a lot of things in life aren’t—but at least now, I understood.
It took me a while, but I’d finally managed to forgive Aunt Patricia. I mean, if Lily could forgive Rose for the awful things she’d done, then who was I not to forgive this? The relief that came with releasing that load made me as if someone had pumped me full of helium.
Something else I’d learned was that the building where Lily had lived in that tiny fifth-floor room with the red curtains, actually belonged to Lily. For years, she’d had her attorney handle renting out each floor, putting the money into a bank account for her. That money had grown to quite a sizeable sum after so many years. Of course, it had been a cruel twist of fate that Mark Spencer had used the basement of that house to operate his counterfeiting scheme. She was trying to atone for that now, though, by using some of the accrued monies to transform the entire house into a homeless shelter, much to her snooty neighbors’ dismay. The identity she’d kept for all those years had given her a first-hand look at the plight of folks like her. She wanted to provide a warm meal and a safe, clean environment for those less fortunate, as well as offering training programs and job placements so they could stay off the streets. The shelter was named, “The Garden,” after her and her sister…two flowers, Calla Lily and Rose.
Though I hadn’t seen or talked to him since that terrible day at the hospital, I’d heard that Jonas’ newspaper series was hug
e! The Tribune covered it for several days with photos and interviews galore. The Associated Press even got hold of it. The buzz it created was so great, that when he queried the idea to a big New York publisher, they offered him a book deal with a healthy advance. I was sure the writing was keeping him busy, and I was happy for him in a bittersweet sort of way. He’d worked hard. He deserved it. I tried not to think about him too much. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt too badly one day, but right now, the pain of loving and losing him was still raw.
****
I was sitting in one of the playground swings in Forsyth Park, watching Mr. Waltham walk his dogs. To anyone who frequented this park, he was a common sight, one that’s not easily forgotten. A short, bald man trying to successfully manage the leashes of not one, not two, but three Great Danes, was a sight to behold.
“Has his hands full, doesn’t he?”
My battered heart thudded to a stop, before surging into a break-neck gallop.
Jonas’ low, sexy voice still made my heart misbehave. Little shivers went up my spine. Run! I told myself. Make a break for it. Escape while you still can! It was good advice…advice I should take, but I couldn’t get my feet to move. My foolish heart was in command, overriding my brain, taking control. I knew myself well enough to know that I’d endure whatever torture was necessary, just to exist in his presence again for a short while. Besides, I knew I would have to face him eventually. It was inevitable. Savannah wasn’t that big of a town. I took a deep breath, steeling myself before twisting the swing to face him. This was going to hurt me, and I knew it. I must be masochistic.
“Hello, Jonas.”
He’d been running. He was breathing hard, and his t-shirt was damp with sweat, clinging to the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes hadn’t changed. They were still melted chocolate, staring at me hungrily, making me quiver inside. He shouldn’t be looking at me like that. He was engaged to someone else! He might even be married already.
He took a step toward me and paused, watching me carefully before taking another step. What was he doing? Gauging my reaction? Checking to make sure I wouldn’t dart away like I was a wild pony that he didn’t want to spook? Did I look that fragile? I hoped not.
After a few more cautious steps forward, he squatted in front of me so we were eye level. “You’ve been avoiding me, Cleo.”
My heart flip-flopped. I loved the way he said my name. I had to swallow the lump that was lodged in my throat before I could reply. “So?”
He nodded once, accepting my answer as an admission that he’d been right. “I think we have some unresolved issues to discuss.”
I snorted. “Is that what you’re calling it? Unresolved issues? Not telling me that you were engaged? Letting me fall for—” I broke off, blinking back tears, then continued, “There’s nothing more to say, Jonas.” I stood quickly, hoping my quivering legs would hold me up. I needed to get out of here…to escape.
He jumped to his feet, reaching a hand to grab my shoulder. I caught my breath at the jolt of electricity that zinged through my body.
“Cleo…please, wait,” he begged. His hand slid down my arm, and he twined his fingers through mine. They still fit perfectly. “Walk with me?”
My resolve fell in crumbles at my feet. “Fine. Let’s walk.”
****
We strolled along the wide sidewalk under massive live-oak trees. Though only early March, the air was already getting sticky, hinting at the oppressive heat that summer would soon bring. Flowers were already blooming everywhere, perfuming the morning breeze. A variety of sounds filled the air: laughter, a child squealing, an occasional barking dog, warped, tinny music from an ice cream truck a couple of blocks away…all the familiar sounds of springtime. Sunlight spilled through the canopy of leaves overhead splatting blobs of warm yellow onto the sidewalk all around us.
Jonas cleared his throat. “I was engaged.”
Pain stabbed through my heart like a knife. “I think we’ve already covered that base, Jonas.”
“Was.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I was engaged. Past tense. It ended a long time ago…three years, to be exact.”
I couldn’t help it. A tiny balloon of hope swelled…just a little. “But Jill said—”
“She lied,” he raked an angry hand through his hair. “One of the plethora of her talents, I’m afraid.”
“Did you just say, plethora?” I bit my lip, squelching a smile.
He nodded, his eyes sparkling. “Yep.”
Now, my smile refused to be squelched. “Sounds like somebody’s been spending too much time with a thesaurus.”
He threw back his head and laughed, “Yeah, well, it’s not been by choice.” Then he sobered. “Cleo, what did you start to say earlier?”
I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I wasn’t ready to go there, yet. “Tell me what happened.”
He sighed, but the look he gave me promised that this was just a delay, that we’d be returning to the subject later. “Okay…a little over three years ago, when Jill and I were on our way to our rehearsal dinner, we broke up.”
I waited for him to continue, until I realized that he thought he was done. The key word being, “thought.” “And…?” I prompted.
“And, nothing. End of story.”
Yeah, right. Nice try, big boy! “Okay, let’s put it this way. Why did you break up?”
Silence.
Had he heard me? I studied his expression, his furrowed brow, the set of his jaw. Oh, he’d heard me, all right, and he was thinking hard about something. Okay. I could wait.
After a while, I rethought that, “I could wait” policy. Jeez! Was he going to tell me, or not? What had happened? Was it bad? It must be, if it was taking him this long to tell me. How bad could it be? My mind started creating all sorts of imagined scenarios, each worse than the other, until he finally blurted, “Jill didn’t really love me…not me. She was in love with my money.”
What? I hadn’t seen that coming, and it was so far removed from anything I’d been thinking, I almost laughed. Was he kidding? He didn’t have any money! “Was she on drugs, or something? You work for the Trib, Jonas. How could she be in love with your money?”
“Maybe I should’ve said she was in love with the Holmes’ money. I’m not rich, but my family is.” He was watching me carefully while I processed this. It was a lot to take in, and I was still confused.
“So?”
“So, it’s a lot of money.”
“So?” I repeated with more force.
“So…I’ve never been able to have a relationship in which that didn’t play a major role. Jill’s betrayal was really a wakeup call. I knew the only way I could ever be sure that someone loved me and not the Holmes cash and clout, was to live like I didn’t have it. So I left. I moved down here, got an apartment. Well, I call it an apartment…my mother calls it a slightly oversized dumpster. Anyway, it was a place to live. Then I found a job, not flipping hamburgers like my brothers thought. And by the way, I’ve got five of them.”
“Jobs?”
He laughed. “No. Brothers. Peter, Phillip, Paul, Barnabas, and Andrew. Can you tell my Mom was hung up on Bible names during her childbearing years? Except for Sam. Sam broke the mold.”
“Sam? Oh, right…your sister. You told me about her, just not the others. So, there are seven of you?” I was shocked, as well as slightly jealous. I’d always wanted a sibling.
“Yeah, that contributed to me leaving Charleston, too. I was tired of being a number. Anyway, I got my job at the Trib…a legitimate writing job. Sure, I wasn’t making much, but it was enough to get by and I knew it wouldn’t be that way forever. I had goals. I’d get my own column someday, and things would get better, but I had to prove my worth to my boss, first. The homeless story was supposed to be that proof. Then I met you and everything changed.”
The look he gave me nearly singed my eyebrows. My throat went dry and I couldn’t say a word.
Our walk had
made a big loop, dumping us back at the swings. He led me over to them and sat me down in one. Putting his hands to my back, he gave me a gentle push, swinging me forward. Two little girls, who were playing in the sand near us, pointed at me. I could hear them giggling. I shook my head and smiled. I might look like a kid, but each time Jonas’ hands touched my back, giving me another push, it caused some very grown-up feelings…feelings which I hadn’t been sure I’d ever experience again. My world felt right.
“Hey, Cleo!” he shouted, giving me a huge push, actually running under me and ending up in front.
“What?” I squealed, laughing.
“You know what I love?”
“No, Jonas. What do you love?”
“I love the fact that it doesn’t seem to matter to you whether or not I have money.”
I laughed, flinging my head back and swinging myself higher.
He stood there, wearing a huge grin, and the balloon of hope inside me swelled. I’d felt dead during our months apart, and now I was coming back to life. It couldn’t get any better than this.
“Hey, Cleo!” he shouted again.
“What?” I giggled.
“You know what else I love?”
“What?”
“You!” he called out, his face suddenly serious. The truth of the statement was there, shining for the world to see.
I gasped. He’d never said those words to me before. My legs dangled; I was too stunned to pump them back and forth, and the swing slowed while I stared at him in open-mouthed shock. I was wrong…it could get better!
Before I could say anything, though, he dropped to one knee in the sand and my heart nearly stopped beating.
“I was wondering…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box, opening it and holding it out with one hand. “…if you’d marry me, please?”
Extending my feet, I dragged them to an abrupt stop. I put my hand to my mouth, happy tears blurring my vision. I impatiently blinked them away, not wanting to miss anything. Then I jumped to my feet and stumbled over to him, dropping to my knees, flinging my arms around his neck, and nearly knocking us both over.