by Irene Hannon
“Hate is a difficult thing to overcome, Scott. And forgiveness doesn’t come easily for many people.”
Scott frowned. “That’s the odd thing, Reverend. I expected hate. And anger. But what I saw in Jess was more…I don’t know. Confusion. Fear. Pain. It was almost as if the whole thing happened four days ago, not almost four years ago.”
“I’m sure your release brought back all the memories. Made them seem fresh again. She may need some time to sort through her feelings now that you’re back in her life. To deal with unresolved issues.”
“So should I back off? Wait awhile?”
“You might want to move slowly,” the minister counseled. “Even though I know that’s hard to do. But I know the Lord will show you the way if you put your trust in Him.”
Scott sighed and shook his head. “Patience is one of those virtues I’m still working on, Reverend.”
The minister smiled sympathetically. “You and millions of other people.” Then he turned back toward the lake, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, I think a garden would be just the thing for the gazebo. I’ll run it by the church council at our meeting this week and let you know. Besides, gardening is a good way to develop patience,” he added, his eyes twinkling as the two men headed back to the front of the church.
Scott grinned. “You sound like Seth.”
The minister chuckled. “He’s quite a philosopher, isn’t he?” As they prepared to part, the minister laid a hand on Scott’s shoulder, his eyes once more serious. “Hang in there, okay? I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
Scott took the minister’s hand in a firm clasp. “Thanks. I can use them.”
The minister smiled. “That’s my job. You plant trees. I plant prayers. But both send out roots. We just need to do our part.”
Scott thought about the aptness of Reverend Young’s analogy as he headed back to his apartment. The visible signs of his relationship with Jess, the arching branches and beautiful blooms, had been ruthlessly chopped off at ground level. To the eye it had died. But Scott believed with all his heart that the roots were still there, filled with life. That with nurturing, tender new shoots would spring from the parched ground.
It was up to him to make that happen. And with the Lord’s help and guidance, he would find a way.
Chapter Three
Jess glanced at her bedside clock and groaned. Three in the morning—only ten minutes later than when she’d last checked. Since going to bed four hours earlier, she’d logged all of thirty minutes’ sleep, she calculated wearily. This was going to be one of those nights. Meaning tomorrow would be a very long day at work.
With a resigned sigh she threw back the covers, swung her feet to the floor and reached for her robe. Maybe a soothing cup of herbal tea would help, she thought hopefully as she padded toward the kitchen. Mechanically she filled the kettle, turned on the stove, dropped a tea bag into a mug. But her mind was elsewhere. Namely, on her encounter with Scott the day before.
She’d slept little last night and had spent most of today trying, with some success, to avoid thinking about Scott. But she had far less control over her subconscious thoughts, and they kept bubbling to the surface each time she began to drift to sleep.
The whistle of the kettle distracted her momentarily, and she automatically went through the motions of making her tea. Then she carried it to the living room and sank into a comfortable chair, letting her gaze rest on the photograph of Elizabeth prominently displayed on the coffee table. Her daughter’s smile was infectious, her four-year-old eyes bright with enthusiasm and lively intelligence and the sheer joy of life so common in the very young. She would be almost eight now. Finishing up second grade. Looking far more grown-up than she had in this photo.
If.
Jess drew an unsteady breath. She knew it didn’t do any good to keep rehashing the past. To keep asking the “what if?” questions. Her therapist had stressed that over and over again. You had to deal with the bad things in your life, then move on. And Jess had done that. She’d put the “what ifs” aside, learned to deal with her pain and then established a new career—and a new life. No, it wasn’t totally “normal” yet. She still didn’t sleep well. She didn’t eat enough. And despite the support of her family, a deep, aching loneliness was still her constant companion. But no one knew that. In fact, few people outside her family would ever guess the trauma she’d been through. So yes, she had moved on. And she’d felt good about the progress she’d made.
Until now.
Because Scott’s return had completely unsettled her, resurrecting doubts and emotions and questions that she thought had been laid to rest long ago. It had been easy to hate him, to blame him for everything, to think of him as cold and uncaring, when he was miles away. It was a whole lot harder when he stood three feet in front of her, his eyes filled with anguish and regret.
His physical presence also made her remember all too clearly the love and intimacy they had shared before ambition distracted his attention from the things that really mattered. It was one thing to dream about those things from the past, and a different thing altogether to have the subject of those dreams stand only an outstretched hand away in the present.
And she certainly hadn’t expected him to still love her. Not after the hateful things she’d said to him when Elizabeth died. Not after the cold, bitter note she’d sent him following the accident. Not after years of ignoring his letters. Nor had she expected his gentleness, or the quiet calm that seemed to reflect an inner peace and an acceptance of the past, as if he’d come to grips with what he’d done and found a way to live with it.
Her chaotic emotions, her sudden doubt and uncertainty, made her wonder whether she’d been deluding herself all along. Had she really dealt with the past, or simply ignored it, focusing on the events while burying the real issues deep in the recesses of her mind and heart unresolved—and still raw? If she had truly resolved her issues and put the past behind her, wouldn’t she feel some of the quiet calm, the acceptance, that she’d seen in the depths of Scott’s eyes? And if she had truly written Scott off, hated him as deeply as she’d convinced herself she did, wouldn’t she have been able to sustain her righteous anger and dismiss him without a second thought? Wouldn’t she have been able to ignore the love and regret in his eyes?
Wearily Jess let her head drop back against the upholstered chair. The answer to those questions was obvious: yes. But in reality, she felt far from calm. She hadn’t been able to dismiss him. And she hadn’t been able to ignore the emotions she saw in his eyes. Like it or not, Scott’s presence had disrupted her carefully reconstructed existence.
For more than three years, Jess had suppressed memories of the life she’d shared with Scott. But now she could no longer keep them at bay. So with a resigned sigh she let them flow.
Jess thought back to their first encounter, in a business meeting. They’d done no more than shake hands and say a few words, but the spark that leapt between them had made her nerve endings sizzle and left her stunned. He had looked equally dazed. So she hadn’t been in the least surprised when he’d called the next day and asked her out.
From their very first date, Jess had known that Scott was the man she would marry. And when she’d walked down the aisle with him a year and a half later, her heart overflowing with love, she’d looked forward with joy to the life they would build together as husband and wife.
The first few years of their marriage had more than lived up to her expectations, she recalled wistfully. They cooked together, laughing over exotic new recipes. They gardened, a passion they both shared. They took weekend hiking trips. And when Elizabeth came, bringing a new joy and closeness to their relationship, Jess willingly gave up her public relations job to be a full-time mother. It was a decision she and Scott made jointly and with absolute conviction. Her joy seemed complete.
But as Scott began to climb the corporate ladder, things started to change. Slowly at first. In manageable increments. A late night at th
e office here. A missed family event there. Jess could handle those. She understood that there would be occasional conflicts between work and personal life. What she didn’t realize was that those minor changes were only previews of the major ones to come. Because Scott had been “noticed” by the right people. His talents had been recognized. And as a result, career demands increased. “Rising young executives,” it seemed, were expected to put their jobs first. Always. Period.
Jess tried to cope with Scott’s increased absences and his growing distraction. She watched with alarm as his job became the center of his life. Between his cell phone, e-mail and pager he was never able to get away from the office. She kept telling herself that in time the demands would ease. But as the months, then years, went by and the pace only intensified, she realized that things would never change unless Scott changed them.
So Jess tried to talk to him about it. Repeatedly. But the conversations always followed the same script.
“What do you want me to do about it, Jess?” Scott would say impatiently. “In this business, if you’re not on the fast track, you’re not on any track. And I can’t afford to be without a job. I’m the sole breadwinner. Which is fine. We agreed to that. But I do feel more pressure now to provide us with a good living.”
“Good is one thing, Scott,” she’d reply earnestly. “But I don’t need that huge new house you’ve been talking about. Or the new car. Or a diamond bracelet for Christmas. I’m perfectly happy with simple things. Maybe you could change agencies, find a less demanding job. One that would give us more time to spend together.”
He would frown then, the conflict in his eyes apparent. “I know I haven’t been around as much as you’d like, Jess. But people don’t just walk away from jobs like this.”
“Why not?”
The question was always met with a sigh of exasperation. “I worked too hard to give all this up now.”
“Give what up? The country club membership? The designer suits? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Is there something wrong with those things?” he’d ask defensively.
“No. Only when they come at the expense of other, more important things.”
“I’m doing the best I can to balance everything, Jess. I’ll just have to try harder, I guess.”
And that’s where the conversation would always end. In a stalemate.
Two years into that lifestyle and after numerous dead-end conversations on the subject, Jess began to notice another disturbing change in Scott’s behavior. He’d always enjoyed a glass of wine with a special dinner, a beer while cutting the grass on the weekend.
But now he went for the harder stuff. A gin and tonic became his standard way to unwind at the end of a long day. And at social gatherings he drank far more than was prudent. It was one more worry for Jess to add to her growing list.
But there were good times, too. Scott was a wonderful father—when he was home. He never looked more relaxed or happy than when he was playing with Elizabeth. And she adored him, reaching out her small chubby arms to him and laughing with glee when he appeared. They had good moments as a couple, as well. In the small hours of the morning he would sometimes curl up behind her, stroke her body and whisper words of love that made her heart ache with tenderness—and with a bittersweet pang for the days when making time for love had been his first priority.
And then tragedy struck. The death of her beloved daughter. Bitterness. Recriminations. The end of their marriage in everything but name. The death of her dream for a happily-ever-after life.
Jess felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and she reached up to wipe it away. With an unsteady hand she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip.
But her tea had grown cold.
Just like her life.
“You look tired, honey. Are you feeling okay?”
Jess glanced at her mother. She usually enjoyed the weekly evening with her parents, but she’d dreaded tonight’s dinner. She’d done her best to camouflage the dark circles under her eyes, the result of several almost sleepless nights, but obviously her makeup skills hadn’t been up to the task.
“It’s been busy at the office,” she hedged.
“I’m looking forward to the iris show,” Frank remarked.
“So am I,” Jess said with a smile. Taking her parents to see the gardens when the irises were at their peak, followed by an elegant brunch in one of the downtown hotels, had become an eagerly anticipated annual outing.
“Speaking of flowers, I need to order some mulch for the rose beds. And I think I lost my Mr. Lincoln this winter. I’ll have to replace that as soon as the shipments come in.” He turned to Jess. “I’m planning to extend the back garden and add a few more bushes this year.”
She smiled. Her father’s rose garden was a neighborhood legend. “How many do you have now, Dad?”
“Forty-five.”
“I don’t know why you even bother going down to the botanical garden. You have your own right here.”
He looked pleased. “Mostly roses, though. I like to look at all the other flowers, too.”
“So have you been working longer hours?” Clare asked Jess, doggedly returning to her earlier line of questioning.
Jess toyed with the food on her plate, and took a deep breath. She might as well tell them about Scott’s visit. After all, they were all adults. They could discuss the situation rationally. “Yes. And not sleeping very well for the past few days. Scott came by on Saturday.”
Her father stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, then threw his napkin on the table and stood. “That’s it. I’m calling John Kane. We’ll put a stop to this.”
So much for rational discussion, Jess thought ruefully. This was the reaction she’d been afraid of. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Dad.”
He planted his fists on his hips. “Are you telling me that you’re not upset by these contacts?”
“No. But he’ll get the message eventually.”
“He’ll get it a lot faster if he gets slapped with a restraining order.”
He’d also get in trouble. Probably big trouble, Jess figured. She doubted the criminal justice system showed much mercy to newly released prisoners who were accused of harassment. And after looking into his eyes, she just couldn’t do that to him.
“Let it go for now, Dad,” she said quietly. “I’ll think about it if this keeps up.”
Her father studied her appraisingly. “What did he say to you?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Just that he was sorry.”
Frank snorted. “It’s a little late for that.”
“I told him the same thing.”
“Did you also tell him to leave you alone?”
“More or less. I shut the door in his face.”
“I don’t like this, Jess,” Clare said, clearly worried. “It’s been a hard few years for you. You don’t need to have your life disrupted again.”
Jess didn’t disagree. The trouble was, her life was already disrupted.
When she didn’t respond, Frank spoke again. “Your mother’s right, Jess. You’ve been through enough.”
Jess looked at her parents. They’d always been overly protective of their only daughter. And while she deeply valued their support and understanding and unqualified love, this was a decision she had to make on her own. She’d been affected by Scott’s return in ways she didn’t quite understand. And until she did, until she made sense of her chaotic emotions and thoughts, she was reluctant to take any action.
“I appreciate your concern. But I want to give this a little time,” she said firmly.
There was silence around the table for a moment, and then Clare spoke. “It’s her decision, Frank. She’ll let us know if she wants us to step in.”
Jess sent her mother a grateful look, then transferred her gaze to her father. He frowned in disapproval and seemed poised to make another comment. But after a moment he silently took his seat instead, confining his response to a single sentence.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said shortly.
So did she, Jess thought with a sigh.
“The welcoming committee’s here!”
Scott grinned at Karen, who stood on the other side of his door bearing a pie carrier in one hand and a plate of brownies in the other. “I’m salivating already. I haven’t had anything home cooked in years.”
“There’s more,” she called over her shoulder as she sailed past. “The cooler in the trunk is filled with lasagna, meat loaf and a bunch of other stuff. Can you grab that while I take these to the kitchen?”
Scott did as requested, returning to find Karen surveying his apartment with a frown, her hands planted on her hips, her lips compressed into a thin line. Here it comes, he thought resignedly as he deposited the cooler on the kitchen floor. He took a deep breath and braced himself before turning toward her
“I appreciate all this food, sis. More than you know. But you didn’t need to go to so much trouble. It must have taken you days to make all this.”
“I’m glad I did. I just checked your freezer and your cabinets. Corn flakes, bread, instant rice, instant mashed potatoes, canned stew, eggs. Is that what you’ve been living on?”
“It beats prison fare,” he replied lightly. “Was the drive down okay?”
“It was fine. But I’m not through talking about you yet.” Her gaze swept over the apartment before returning to him, and she folded her arms across her chest. “This isn’t acceptable, Scott.”
“I warned you it wasn’t the Ritz.”
“It isn’t even a cut-rate motel,” she shot back.
“It’s good enough for now.”
“There was a lovely guest room waiting for you in my house. There still is.”
“I need to be here, Karen,” he said quietly.
She looked at him in silence for a few moments. “Because of Jess.”
“Yes.”
She sighed resignedly. “Well, I’m not going to argue with you about that. It would be a lost cause. But I’m not happy about this,” she said with a sweeping gesture around the tiny apartment.