by Jodi Thomas
When I got to the hospital she was gone and I knew there was never going to be a forever, but I swore I’d keep up my side of the bargain.
Her father probably never even told Marti that he loved her. He’d never told Jillian. Maybe her family talked her out of keeping the baby. Jillian didn’t know, but she had a feeling her mother never planned to keep Jefferson James either.
When Jillian locked the door and circled the store, she felt alone, really alone, for the first time since she’d been a little girl, curled up as the wind blew against their trailer and monsters scratched at the door.
She hadn’t followed Papa’s rule: Never get involved in other people’s problems.
She’d slipped. Let it happen. This was just a job like the dozens of others she’d had over the years. She was making good money, living cheap, staying under the radar. This should have been easy. In a couple of months, she’d move on. Somewhere like Atlanta, or Kansas, or even New York. Somewhere she’d just be one of the crowd. Invisible. Usually, after she left a place, no one even remembered her name. But here, they might.
She smiled. If Gram was in her right mind, she’d remember Jillian. Folks had commented several times that she never forgot a name. Joe even said once that she remembered every person she ever met. Someone might pass through town and stop in at the shop and five years later she’d call them by name when they returned.
Jillian told herself she’d never think of this little town or its people again once she walked away. Missing someone only brought pain, regret.
“Never. Never.” She could hear the word echoing off the shop’s walls, but that didn’t make it sound any more true. She’d collected memories here. This time, the people would be hard to forget.
As she passed the cutting table, she remembered the quilt Stella told her Gram used to work on.
No one would notice if she looked now. The door was already locked. She was alone.
Hesitantly, she opened the almost invisible drawer beneath the table. Jillian had no idea what to expect, but what she saw was beyond any quilt she’d ever seen before. Bright colors mixed with embroidered names and numbers in a crazy pattern that had no beginning or end. No balance. No symmetry.
It didn’t fit with any of the quilts in the room, not blocked or patterned in any order. It was like a piece of modern art among Renaissance paintings.
As if handling a treasure, she slowly spread it out on the table. It was so wide the unfinished quilt hung over the sides almost to the floor.
She stared at it, having no idea where to start the description. Pieces of color bright as shards of glass, writing and dates seemed to flow in a whirlpool, bumping into each other, interfering, almost as if crossing over one pattern to form another on top.
She didn’t know if she was looking at a genius’s or a fool’s work.
A light tapping on the door made her jump.
As if she’d been spying into state secrets, Jillian quickly folded the quilt up and shoved it back into the drawer.
She was out of breath when she finally opened the door.
Connor had already retreated toward his pickup. He turned. “Sorry. Sunnie told me you were waiting for me. She said you wanted to take me to dinner.”
Multiple-choice answers bounced across Jillian’s brain. The truth was, she hadn’t said yes; Sunnie had just made the suggestion. But if she admitted it, he’d know his daughter had lied to him.
“I was just folding up a quilt. Can’t wait to go to dinner and hear all about how Gram is settling in at your place.”
Connor’s smile was all the proof she needed to know she’d picked the right answer.
He held the truck door for her, then circled around and climbed in. “Where to?”
“Somewhere quiet. I’ve been surrounded by people all day.”
“I agree. The house has been full of friends since I got Gram home. I managed to run most of them off early last night so she could sleep and and again this afternoon to let Gram rest a few hours before the quilters swarmed in.”
He drove through the Hamburger Hut, picked up malts and burgers, then crossed the bridge to the old part of town. The boards over the water were uneven, rattling her from side to side like a cheap, twirling carnival ride.
Jillian raised her eyebrows but didn’t say a word. Where they were going didn’t matter. She was with the one she wanted to be with. She needed to stop worrying about lingering memories and just relax.
He parked by a three-story building and climbed out.
She waited, not sure what to do. The malts and burgers were still on the seat beside her. Surely they weren’t stopping here. This place was scary even in daylight. She didn’t plan on staying around to see how it looked in less than an hour.
When he opened her door, he raised his arms to catch her. “Come with me.” He encouraged as if offering far more than a lift down from the high seat.
Her legs were plenty long enough to take the step out, but she slid into his embrace. He lowered her to the ground. For a moment they were so close they touched as they breathed. She thought he might lean in slightly and kiss her, but he simply brushed his cheek against her hair. “Trust me, Jillian, you’re going to like this restaurant.”
He grabbed his raincoat from behind the seat, handed her the drinks and picked up their meal.
Following him into the building, she was surprised to see how sound the old factory seemed to be. The ceiling was tall, over twenty feet. Decaying ropes still hung from pulleys, and worktables stood dusty, silently waiting for craftsmen to arrive. The windows were high, ribboning the building with natural light.
Staying close, she whispered as though she might disturb ghosts, “What did they used to make in here?”
“I’m not sure. I think parts of oil rigs were shipped in and assembled here. I don’t know much about it, but there’s an old Christmas tree over there in the corner.” He pointed to a six-foot structure that was formed from a mixture of valves, spools and fittings welded together. “They’re used at oil or gas well sites. I see them in the oil fields around. I’m not really sure why they call them Christmas trees. A roughneck would have to be drunk to mistake this jumble of metal for a tree.”
She turned in a complete circle. “Nice restaurant.”
“Oh, we’re not there yet.” He pointed to a staircase along one wall. “We’ve got rooftop seating.”
Suddenly excited, she climbed ahead of him, her shoes tapping a rhythm in double time. At the top, she waited impatiently with a malt in each hand.
He juggled the bag of burgers as he shoved the heavy door open. They stepped onto the rooftop with no one else around. She could see for miles in every direction. The trees, the fields. Oil rigs, scattered homes and barns, schools and churches.
“It’s beautiful!” The sun’s low glow gave everything a golden light.
He set the bag down and spread his raincoat out like a tablecloth on an air vent cover. “It’s not yet, but it will be.” He pulled up two empty five-gallon buckets to use as stools.
She sat the malts down. “You’ve been to this restaurant before.”
“Guilty. But I’ve never brought anyone here. Only you.”
While he unwrapped his burger, she looked around, pointing out everything as if he was also seeing it for the first time. “Look how winding the creek is.
“I had no idea there were so many trees.
“Oh, look at those horses running.” She loved the way the evening clouds moved over the land, darkening the hues of the earth in shadow as they drifted.
“It’s winter now, not near as pretty as it’ll be come spring.” He set his hamburger beside hers and came to join her near the roof’s edge. “I lease that flatland out to a farmer who plants cotton every spring. That brown dirt will look like a green carpet in a few months.”
“I won’t be here in spri
ng.” She let the wind catch her words as she turned away from him and the view. The black tar roof beneath her feet was all she saw now, but she stared hard, willing not one tear to fall.
This time. This place she would miss. When she left, Jillian knew memories would be packed in her heart. A year from now, a decade, a lifetime, she’d still remember the beauty of this view in winter and wonder how it looked in spring.
Silent for a minute, his words came calm, questioning. “Is there someone pulling you away? Are you running away from someone? Or to another?”
He’d asked before. She’d answered. But he must not have believed her.
“No one is waiting for me or looking for me.” She walked to the edge of the roof and stared down at the alley in shadows. “No one cares about me, or for me, Connor.”
Moving up behind her, he whispered, “I do, Jillian.” He seemed to be dragging the words out. They didn’t come easy. “I care. I think I have since the day you first walked into my office. There is something about you that draws me to you.”
Pulling her gently against him, he kissed her as she fought back tears. Part of her wanted to run, like she always did, but this time she decided she’d stay long enough to feel just a bit. Connor was a kind man. He’d be easy to care about but she wasn’t sure he’d be easy to leave.
She kissed him back, knowing she was gambling. Loving the way he held her as if she were a treasure. He kissed like a man thirsting for one drink and he’d suddenly found an ocean in her. Feeling every touch not just on her skin, but all the way to her bones. When they were close she swore she could hear his thoughts. No one had ever gotten so near.
“I’ve been wanting to hold you all day.” His words blended with the evening wind.
“I know.” How could she explain that she’d been sleepwalking all through the day and now, for the first time, she felt awake?
Without a word, he turned her to face the sunset. With his arms wrapped around her, they watched nature’s grand show. “This is why I reserved the rooftop table. I wanted to show you this.”
She didn’t say a word. Couldn’t. The calm beauty of this quiet place melted into her soul.
Just as the last bit of sun disappeared, she had to admit, “It’s breathtaking!”
“Yes, it is,” he answered against her ear. “I’ve been up here dozens of times, but it’s never been as gorgeous as it is tonight.
“You know, Jillian, you affect me as no one ever has. Like a warm wind blowing away a kind of loneliness that settled over me years ago. I know it doesn’t make sense. We barely know each other. But you make my world feel whole.” He laughed, nervous at his admission. “When I look in those stormy-day eyes of yours, I feel like I’ve found a safe harbor.”
A tear slowly slid down her cheek. She understood him. But he’d never understand why she had to leave.
And leave she would.
18
When the sun’s last glow disappeared, Connor watched the town begin to sparkle with lights. Not bright like Las Vegas must be. Not breathtaking like New York City. But welcoming, like nowhere else but his town.
“It looks like a toy village set up on a velvet board.” Jillian leaned her head on his shoulder. Something he was growing quite fond of her doing.
“It’s beautiful at Christmas,” he said, knowing she would be long gone before summer, much less December. “Ribbons of lights string across Main, and lots of people trim their homes in twinkling lights. From here it looks like the whole town is sparkling red and green.”
“I won’t...”
He ended the conversation with a quick, firm kiss, wanting to taste her before words came between them.
When he pulled away, he sounded harder than he meant to. “Let’s not talk about your going. I know you’ll leave. You told me from the start, but for now could we just pretend that you belong here? I think I’d rather take the jolt of your leaving all at once and not in tiny pricks.”
“All right.” Her voice sounded flat but her hands fisted around the material on the front of his shirt as if she didn’t plan to let go of him.
Maybe she wanted to pretend, too, or for once she just didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t care. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to imagine three months was a lifetime.
He touched her lips softly in apology, as his thoughts seemed to slip out. “You’re here, with me, until you leave. You’re here.” His arm tightened around her waist, telling her the here was with him.
“I’m here,” she answered as her mouth opened to his kiss.
He couldn’t believe how completely he could lose himself in one woman. It had never happened before. She felt right in his arms. He didn’t know when or where they’d make love, but he knew they would and whether they did it one time or every night while she was with him, Connor knew that he’d fall asleep for the rest of his life holding her in his dreams.
Knowing that every touch was both a beginning and an ending made the moment so much sweeter. She melted against him and still his hands moved over her, pressing her closer. He wanted to memorize every curve of her, the way she smelled and how she liked to be kissed, what made her laugh and the taste of her tears. He wanted to know it all so he’d remember.
The night darkened, traffic on the other side of the bridge slowed, the wind began to rage, but he barely noticed. She was here now. She was with him.
Maybe, as rational adults, they should talk about the way they felt, but for now all he wanted was to feel. To live in the moment without the shadow of loss hanging over him.
When they finally climbed down from the roof, they had to move in total darkness through the old factory. Laughing. Touching. Bumping into one another.
Once in the truck, she slid over close to him, seeming to need him as near as possible.
After one kiss so hot he felt like it fried several brain cells, he grinned. “Did you ever do it in a pickup?”
“No. And we’re not doing it now.” She laughed, teasing him as she pressed against him. “How would it look? The mayor spotted making out in his pickup. Sheriff Daily would lock you up.”
“I don’t really care,” he admitted.
“Well, I do. I don’t go all the way on a first date.”
“This is a date, then?”
“It almost was.” She kissed his nose. “I almost asked you out. You almost fed me dinner. I think a crow carried off my hamburger while we were watching the sunset.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Where to now?” She was threading her fingers through the back of his hair. He had trouble forming words, much less telling directions. Everyone in his house would probably be asleep by now. No one would notice when he came in.
She scraped her nails along his scalp, then curled her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her for one last kiss before she whispered, “We’re going to your house. I’d like to check on Gram and then raid your fridge. We can’t stay lost forever.”
He groaned. She was right, of course. It was time he got back, but part of him wished all clocks, all problems, all responsibility would stop for a few hours.
Slowly, she pulled a few inches away. He started the truck, then rested a hand on her leg, fearing she might slip farther away. They drove back across the bridge.
A few minutes later there were so many cars parked around his house Connor had to pull to the curb three houses down. As they walked slowly to the two-story home he’d owned since Sunnie was born, he finally felt in control of his emotions.
This time they had spent together, alone, had changed them. He knew it and more important, he knew she knew it. They were no longer polite strangers. No longer flirting. No longer guessing how the other felt.
In the shadows of evergreens on the edge of his property line, he stopped. Looking down at Jillian for a moment, he wished he could see her eye
s as he admitted, “It wasn’t enough tonight.”
She stood so still he wasn’t sure she heard him.
Then, she added, “I agree.” Her hand reached out to stroke his arm as though she had to feel him near. “It was perfect, but it wasn’t enough.”
He fought to keep from closing the few inches separating her from him. “When we go inside, I won’t touch you. I may not even look at you, but I’ll be thinking about what happened on the roof. We’re not two kids playing around. I think after thirty-seven years I’ve finally found my addiction. It’s you, Jillian.”
He wasn’t courting her or seducing her. She wasn’t flirting or manipulating him. This was no game they were playing.
Finally, she met his eyes. “When we go inside, stay a room away from me because if you don’t I may shock the ladies of the quilting circle.”
He laughed. “I’m tempted to test that theory.”
She straightened, her hands locked together in front of her. “Thank you for the date, Connor. I had a nice time.”
Slowly, they moved into the glow of the porch light. As they paused he said, keeping his voice neutral, “It was nice getting to know you better.” In the shadows behind them, his hand slid along her thigh. “I love the feel of you so near, Jillian. It’s like I’ve found something I’d missed all my life and didn’t know it until the moment I touched you.”
“Me, too,” she answered as she stepped onto the side porch that led to a brightly lit kitchen window.
Every part of him wanted to remain in the shadows with her, near her, touching her, but their private evening was over. Reason told him the quilters had stayed too late and he needed to go in and break up the party.
Before he could tease her more with their well-bred conversation and bold brushes, Connor joined her on the porch. The newly constructed ramp made it necessary that they brushed shoulders while walking.
His gaze caught movement by the door. A shadowy figure almost like the one he’d seen in the alley of the district. Only this one was huddled, hiding between two wooden rockers.