A Change of Plans

by Donna K. Weaver

  He covered my hand on the handle. “I only hesitate because of your father-in-law.”

  I turned to face him. “You’ve waited a long time to meet him. Just do it.”

  Jori thought for a moment and exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold air. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

  CHAPTER 32

  THE WEATHER had been warming over the past few days and most of the snow from the recent storms had melted, leaving muddy roads.

  I parked by the door, and Jori pulled his little sports car up next to it, his sketchbook and a pencil in his pocket. “This is even better than I imagined!” His face glowed as he stared at the house. He took two bags from the truck and followed me up the stairs.

  “You’ve never even driven by before?” I asked as we put the groceries inside the door and began taking off our shoes and jackets.

  Jori ducked his head, looking sheepish as he picked up the grocery bags again.

  “Silly man,” I said as we walked through the large living room into the kitchen. “Do you mind getting the rest, while I start putting these away? Then you can look around the main floor.”

  With a happy grin, he bowed and hurried from the room. Alone, I leaned against the counter and watched him slide his feet into his stylish loafers. Jori in Lewistown. Who would have thought?

  Which made me remember that stinker Elle. I called her while I started emptying the bags. No one answered, so I left a scathing message for her to call me.

  Jori didn’t say anything as he brought in the last of the bags and then left to explore. Once I finished, I found him in the large living room, furiously sketching as though he would never have another chance. I came over and sat down on the arm of the chair he was in, so I could see what he was drawing.

  He had already completed several pictures and was working on the beautiful view through the window. I reached forward and picked up the other sketches. As always, his drawings touched me.

  “I really like these, though to be honest I haven’t seen any of your works I haven’t liked.” I stood up and stretched. “I’m going to start cooking. You can keep going if you want or come in and help me.”

  “I’ll help.” He set the sketchpad on the table and rose from the chair. “What are you making?”

  “Soup and bread ... well, Emily got the bread started in the machine this morning.”

  I gave him an apron to tie over his designer slacks. After washing our hands, I cut the meat and got it browning, and he chopped the vegetables. “So, tell me what you’ve been up to,” I said as we worked.

  He made light of the estrangement with his family, spoke in amazement about his rise to fame, and talked happily about his move back to Finland. I could tell he was avoiding some issues by the way he glossed over them, but I didn’t press him. He would share them when and if he wanted to.

  Once we had the soup simmering, we returned to the living room, and I showed him pictures of Braedon from several photo albums.

  “Considering how you cried as soon as you saw me, it may be too soon, but ... are you up to talking about it?”

  I squeezed the bridge of my nose. I wasn’t going to cry again.

  Jori pulled my hand from my face. “You’re not ready. It’s okay.” He gestured toward the piano. “Do you still play?”

  “Yes.” I appreciated his sensitivity. “I play a lot. It’s been very healing.”

  He moved to the piano and picked up the sheets off the bookshelf. “Play for me. I used to love listening to you on the ship.” He set the music near the keyboard.

  I played the piece, and as I neared the end, he said, “Another.” I gave myself to the music and jumped when the front door opened and Ethan, followed by Emily and then Jack, entered.

  Ethan stared as Jori rose from the couch. “Mr. Virtanen? What are you doing here?”

  I quickly closed the fallboard. Remembering Ethan’s comment about having taken a class from Jori last year, I said, “Ethan, Jori’s an old friend of mine. Can you introduce him to Jack and your mother while I set the table?” I dashed into the kitchen where the alarm for the bread had just gone off.

  When I returned to the dining area with the dishes, I watched to see how Jack was reacting to Jori. It wasn’t encouraging if Jack’s expression was any indication.

  “Come help with the table while they finish getting cleaned up, Jori,” I called. “Lunch will be ready in five minutes, you guys.”

  Jori hurried to help me. “I should have left sooner.”

  I giggled and told him about my introduction to Jack. Jori’s expression became grim. “What’s wrong?” I murmured.

  “He shouldn’t have called you a tramp.”

  “Shh ... here they come.”

  Jack’s glower as he sat at the table shut down all conversation. He didn’t ask Jori any questions or ask about my morning like he normally did.

  The longer the uncomfortable silence went on the angrier I got. Clenching my fork, I finally asked, “So, do you always treat guests at your table like this, Jack?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Jori’s ears go red. Emily and Ethan froze.

  When Jack started to sputter, I said, “Jori is a dear friend to both Braedon and me from the ship. He came to Montana two years ago because he wanted to meet you.”

  “I apologize, Mr. Randolph. I shouldn’t have come.” Jori started to rise.

  “Sit down there, young man,” Jack barked.

  “Now, Jack,” chided Emily as I pulled at Jori’s sleeve. He sat, his body rigid, his face flushed. I knew from experience how unpredictable his temper could be and hoped he wouldn’t lose it.

  Jack appeared to like the flash of anger, however, and smiled for the first time. “So tell me why you’ve wanted to meet me.”

  I glared at Jack, wondering if he took this approach with every new person.

  Jori looked at me before taking a calming breath. Stiff at first, he began to share some of his shipboard experiences with Braedon, most of which I had been a part of. Jori turned on his charm, and everyone relaxed.

  With some reluctance, Jack checked the clock. “Well, it’s time we got back to work.”

  Jori stood and offered his hand to Jack. “I’m glad I got to meet you, Sir. If it’s all right with you, I’ll help Lyn clean up, and then I must get to an appointment.”

  “Sure thing.” Jack took his hand and squeezed it.

  I groaned at the masculine grip contest that resulted. Jack strode from the table, and I had to choke back a laugh when Jori turned to me, eyes wide and right hand clutched to his chest, and mouthed ‘ow.’

  At the door, Jack called back to Jori. “Call me Jack. And you’re welcome to come back anytime you want.”

  Jori turned and dropped his customary bow.

  When Jack returned from his chores, I was waiting for him with my arms across my chest. He eyed me as he took off his hat and coat. Without saying anything, I followed his progress to his recliner with my eyes. He picked up the newspaper and pretended I wasn’t there. I tapped my foot.

  He grunted and dropped his hands to his lap, the paper crumpling. “Out with it, girl.”

  “What was that all about with Jori during lunch?”

  Jack’s cheeks went red, and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

  “Out with it, Jack.”

  “I don’t have any use for prissy, pretty boys.”

  “That doesn’t justify you being rude to my friend.”

  “I said he could come back, didn’t I? But he better not start courting you.” Jack picked up the paper again, watching me over the top. “Now let me read in peace.”

  I couldn’t believe Jori had made both Jack and Braedon feel threatened.

  THE CALVING season was indeed upon us, and I didn’t see much of the others over the next few days. I focused on working around the house and keeping everyone fed and in clean clothes. Jori came by a couple of times.

  After dinner one night, I walked him to his car. He opened the door and
hesitated. “You need to get out. Everyone’s so busy with the calves, you spend too much time here alone. Let me take you to a movie.”

  Once he mentioned it, I realized he was right. I was starting to feel a little stir-crazy. “I would love to.”

  “I’ll pick you up on Friday at seven.” He kissed my cheek before getting into his car.

  I stood on the porch and watched the little red car speed away, grateful to have such a good friend.

  Owen came to stand beside me. He stared at the disappearing taillights. “I ... I’m flabbergasted.”

  The teacher in me grinned at his word choice. “About what?”

  “About Mr. Virtanen taking you out. We all thought he was gay.”

  “Jori gay?” I burst out laughing. “Why would anyone ever think that?”

  “Because women have been throwing themselves at him since he first came here.” Owen smirked. “At school we love watching how he fends them off. And some of them ... well, we couldn’t figure out why he turned them away ... unless he was gay.”

  “He used to be quite the ladies’ man. He’s definitely not gay.” The idea made me giggle again.

  JORI TOOK me to dinner at the Bistro before the movie. Because of Owen’s admission, I paid more attention to the people around us. There were many hopeful glances from women when he held my chair for me to sit.

  I giggled at one particularly shocked woman’s expression and buried my face in my menu.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “Do you know what your reputation is here?”

  He arched a brow. “I shouldn’t have any reputation here.”

  I fought to control the twitching at the corners of my mouth and failed. When I leaned in conspiratorially, he moved forward until our heads were nearly touching. I whispered, “Owen told me everyone thinks you’re gay.”

  Jori sat upright. “Why would they think that?”

  I told him what Owen had said, and Jori muttered something that might have been a Finnish curse. “I date. Just not here.” His eyes narrowed. “What did you tell him?”

  I smoothed the soft paper napkin in my lap. “That you’re not gay.”

  “That’s all you said?”

  “Well, I said on the ship you had a reputation as a ladies’ man.”

  Jori exhaled a deep breath. “So I’m either a player or I’m gay?”

  “I’m just the messenger.” I caught a glare directed at me from a table of women and coughed to cover a laugh.

  He started to look over his shoulder, but I grabbed his sleeve and he turned back.

  “Let’s just say that being seen with a girl tonight could change your reputation here, but you’ll need to be prepared to fight off more fans.” I indicated the table of women and giggled again.

  “Let’s order,” he growled, signaling the server.

  Later, when the waiter removed our dishes, Jori leaned back in his chair. “Can you tell me how Jimmy died?”

  Like he had turned on a faucet, the tears flowed as I talked about the young Texan. It naturally led to Maria’s death, and the island. And Braedon.

  Jori had to request more napkins even after he let me borrow another one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs.

  “I’m sorry,” I sniffed.

  “No.” He reached across the table and pressed my hand for a moment, the skin of his fingers rough with calluses. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I—”

  I interrupted him. “They were your friends too. You have the right to know.” I paused. “I’m starting to sound like Elle’s husband.”

  Jori perked up. “What’s Mal say?”

  I told him about the Olivia Howard interview, expecting him to agree with me.

  A funny look crossed his face. “I think he’s right. You should do it.”

  I threw his handkerchief at him, but it fell short. “Why do you care?”

  He shrugged, snatching the fabric square before I could take it back. “It would be good for you.”

  “Right.” He was such a liar. There was something else going on, but I decided to let it go. “Now give that back. I need to wash that first.”

  “I can wash it.” He checked his watch. “We need to leave if we’re going to make the show.” He stood and pulled out my chair for me.

  “You’ve been such a supportive friend.” I gave him a quick hug and whispered, “Now, put your arm around my shoulders when we go out. My contribution to redeeming your reputation.”

  He did as requested. “Did you see their faces?” I said with a laugh when we were back in the car.

  “I’m not sure I’m going to like your kind of help,” he replied, watching the women stare out the restaurant window at us.

  I OVERSLEPT THE next morning. The others had already gone out, so I went about my usual routine. After lunch, I returned to the previous day’s project of working my way through the unused rooms—cleaning, airing, changing sheets on the beds, and so on.

  While vacuuming, I thought I heard something and shut off the machine. Someone downstairs was shouting. I wondered if it was Jack. He would erupt once in a while. He had a temper like a volcano, building up pressure and then releasing. Once he blew, it was over.

  I listened for a minute, but this shouting didn’t sound like one of those episodes. I ran down the stairs to see what was wrong.

  Owen stood in the open doorway, cool air blowing in. I could just barely see Ethan and Jack and a couple of men by a car with an out-of-state license plate. Jack yelled at them while Ethan tried to calm him down. I wondered where Emily might be. She could usually get him to settle down. Then I remembered she had gone into town.

  “Owen, what’s going on?” I asked as I walked up next to him.

  At the sound of my voice, all the men turned toward us, and one of the visitors lifted a camera and took a picture, the flash blinding me. Owen shoved me back into the house, crowding in behind me, and slammed the door shut. I hit the step wrong, twisted my ankle ... and went down as excruciating pain consumed me.

  I cried out and pulled in my leg, trying not to move my ankle. Owen dashed to my side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He tried to help me up.

  “No,” I moaned, pushing him away. “Give me a minute.” I clenched my fists, my eyes watering. Once the initial agony had passed and I could breathe again, I said, “Okay. Help me stand.”

  He put my arm over his shoulder and supported my hops to the couch. I couldn’t find any position that didn’t hurt. Owen stood staring at me, his face an image of misery.

  “I need some ice!” I groaned.

  He fled to the kitchen and returned with ice wrapped in a towel. He put it gently on my ankle, but I still yelped at the contact. When he jerked the icepack back, I hissed, “Put it back! I have to stop the swelling.” I bit back a cry as he pressed the pack against the quickly bruising flesh. The numbing cold eased the pain to a manageable level.

  Outside, the shouting continued. “Owen, can you see what’s happening?”

  He ran to the door, and I shouted, “No! Look through the window.”

  “Sorry.” He peered through the curtain. “I think they’re leaving now.” He looked at me over his shoulder. “I sure hope Jack didn’t hit one of them. We don’t need the police coming around. That would draw even more reporters.”

  Reporters. My stomach sank. So much for the local photographer being safe.

  When Owen returned and reached to check the ice pack, I held up my hands. “Don’t touch it! Go get Jack and tell him I need to see a doctor.”

  Owen bolted to the window again and, seeing it was safe, yanked the door open and yelled, “Jack! We need to get Lyn to the hospital.”

  Jack and Ethan raced into the house and to the couch. I flinched as Jack moved the ice. He swore and told Ethan to get the truck.

  If I hadn’t been in so much pain, it would have been funny the way they danced around and argued with each other about how best to get me into the truck without jarring my ankle. Finally, wit
h Jack in the driver’s seat, me in the middle leaning against him—which made shifting a little complicated—and Ethan in the front holding up my leg, we made the bumpy ride.

  Fortunately, the emergency room wasn’t very busy, and they got me in to see the doctor right away.

  “You’re lucky, Mrs. Randolph.” The doctor wrote something in my chart. “It’s just a sprain.” He looked up. “I know—is there ever just a sprain? But take it easy for a couple of days, and you should be fine. How are you feeling otherwise?”

  I shrugged, but Jack said, “She’s had a touch of food poisoning she can’t seem to shake off.”

  The doctor examined me further. “Now, didn’t you just come back after being in the tropics for a couple of years?” That was a diplomatic way of putting it. “There are some pretty nasty diseases out there, so let’s test some blood just to be sure.”

  Once a nurse had drawn a sample, the doctor returned with an air cast for my ankle and instructions to stay off it for a day or two. He handed me a prescription for pain medication and said we could go.

  The men insisted on carrying me into the house. Emily had returned, and Owen had let her know what had happened. She immediately ushered me to Jack’s recliner and propped up my foot. Jack brought me some Tylenol and then sat on the coffee table in front of me.

  “Who were those men?” I asked after swallowing the pills.

  Jack growled, “Paparazzi.”

  I laid my head back and closed my eyes. “So they’ve found out where I am.”

  He studied me. “People are just curious, I figure. We don’t watch a lot of television around here, but we do watch some. To tell you the truth, we’ve kept it off, so you wouldn’t see how much you showed up.”

  I sat up. “I should be old news by now.”

  Jack shrugged. “I’ve been talking to Mal about it ...”

  I clenched the pillow. “Not that again!”

  Jack leaned closer. “You’re doing a lot better now. Maybe if you just agree to give an exclusive interview, everyone else will leave you alone.” He patted my hand. “Give it some thought. Do the interview and put it behind you.”