“That would be great,” he said as he sat.
She busied herself filling mugs and setting out the raisin-studded triangles. “They’re George’s, although they’re a couple of days old, so they may taste like sawdust. I’ve got jelly if you like or orange juice.”
She was babbling, she realized with a pang. In all the twists and turns their relationship had taken, she’d never felt awkward with J.J. Annoyed? Yes. Amused? Often. But never awkward. To feel that way now just strengthened the sense of foreboding that had settled over her as soon as she’d opened her eyes that morning, a gut-level certainty that her revelation the night before had pushed the relationship off course in a way it wasn’t going to recover from.
Tapping his fingers restlessly on the table, J.J. stared out the window. When she sat, he turned to her. “There’s a problem,” he said abruptly.
That much, she already knew. “What’s going on?”
“I got a call from the head coach of the ski team. He wants me in Innsbruck tomorrow.”
“They’re going to make you fly over for a day?”
“No.” He hesitated. “I have to fly out tonight and stay with the team for the duration.”
“But,” she said blankly. “Tuesday is Halloween. The costume parade, the fund-raiser for the center.”
“I know, but I’m going to have to skip it.”
“I don’t get it. They just called out of the blue and demanded you show up?”
He gave a pained look. “They told me when I got to Sölden. I’m AWOL. I didn’t say anything because I figured it wasn’t a problem, I could get out of it. I always have before.”
“And let me guess, this time you couldn’t.” The kids, she thought with a quick twist of anxiety. “J.J., we talked about this. You promised. People are counting on you.”
“You don’t need to tell me. I feel like hell about it.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and?”
“What happens next?”
“I guess you’ll have to find someone to fill in for me.”
“And what about the autograph signing?”
He groaned. “Ah, hell.”
“Yeah, hell. Dammit, J.J.,” she burst out. “Didn’t you ever think of making sure you can make good on a promise before you actually make it?”
“I meant to.”
“Sure, I’ve known you practically your whole life, remember? It’s always like this. You always mean well. And then things go wrong and you figure it’s no problem. It’ll be all right with a little J. J. Cooper pixie dust and a grin, right? Well, I don’t have any pixie dust to fix the mess you just created.” Irritation bloomed into anger. “You may be running off to the land of J.J. groupies, but I’m going to be stuck here dealing with the real world once you’ve gone. I’m the one who’ll be telling Pete at the muffler shop that he donated flyer costs for a fund-raiser with no special guest, and telling a bunch of kids who worship you that you can’t be there for them.”
“You think I don’t know that?” J.J. demanded. “You think they don’t matter to me? There’s nothing I can do, Lainie. It’s my job.”
“No, it’s your life. It’s your whole life in a nutshell. And that’s what it is—nuts. And so am I.” She rose abruptly and paced away.
It hurt, God, it sliced through her. Despite everything she’d known, she’d taken a chance on him. And all her worst fears had come to pass. Here was the J.J. she’d always known, completely unchanged, the J.J. who didn’t keep his promises, who skated through life to his own soundtrack—and if you didn’t dig the music, that was your problem.
And if you fell for him and gave him your heart, that was your problem, too.
“I can’t do this,” she said positively.
“What?”
“This.” She flung her hands up. “You. Me. It doesn’t work, J.J.”
“Because I’m missing the costume parade?” He gave her an incredulous stare.
“Because of the world you live in. The way you live. Your life doesn’t make sense to me. Your world, your glam thing doesn’t work.”
“Glam thing? Lainie, what is this? Until five minutes ago, we were working just fine.”
“Fine? Says the guy who doesn’t even know how he feels about me? Speed, how was this working just fine?” Her short laugh held no humor. “Come on, admit it, this was all just place-holding for you, something to do while you were bored, before you went back to jet setting.”
“Wait a minute, you were talking about leaving, too,” he said hotly.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. This is what I want, J.J. This is the life I want. And it doesn’t fit with yours.”
“I’m not going to be living that life forever.”
“Oh, come on, I saw you at Sölden. You’re hooked on it like a junkie. You’re going to be racing World Cup until they cart you off the mountain.”
“Are you not getting this?” His voice rose. “Lainie, I’m thirty-three. Why do you think Doug can strong-arm me? I’m at the end of my career and I don’t know what the hell happens next. I’ve got this season, maybe one more and then it’s over.”
“So, what, we’ve been your dress rehearsal? Try it and see if you like it? A test-drive? That’s not the way it works, J.J. It’s not just about you. You’re supposed to be with people because you care about them, not because you want to try them on like a new pair of ski boots. You can’t just jump into people’s lives when it’s convenient. You’re supposed to be there no matter what. But that’s not what you do,” she finished. “That’s never been what you do.”
“Just like believing in me is what you never do. Ever since I got here, you’ve been busy telling me where I fall short, setting standards. You want me to change but you won’t believe that I have.”
She looked at him tiredly. “J.J., I tried believing, remember? And look what it got me. I’m not so sure I’m all that hot to believe anymore.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment, then lowered them. “Look, I’ve got to get dressed and over to the festival. Why don’t we just let it drop, all right? You took your test-drive and it just didn’t work.”
Anger sparked in his eyes. “I took a test-drive? From where I stand, it looks like you’ve spent the whole time looking for an excuse to bail. Last night, you love me, today I’m a jerk you can’t wait to get rid of.” His jaw tightened. “Maybe you’re right about ending this. I’m sick of talking to the air. You don’t like my life? You don’t like my job? Too bad. Because I do.” He stood. “You know, you’re something special, Lainie, but you’re too damned much work. You ever get your head on straight about this, come look me up. Maybe we’ll talk. But I’m not holding my breath.”
And he turned around and walked out.
Chapter Eighteen
She didn’t cry. Maybe she swayed a little when she heard the door slam behind J.J. Maybe her hand shook as she dumped out the coffee and food she suddenly had no taste for. The bitterness of disappointment lay like ashes in her mouth. But she didn’t cry.
Instead, she finished cleaning up the kitchen and went to her bedroom. She had to get ready for the festival. The yoga pants and T-shirt she’d drawn on when she’d risen were comfortable, but not exactly appropriate for work. Time to get ready to go.
She faltered a little when she walked in and saw the sheets and coverlet still rucked up from the night before, saw the dent that remained in the pillow from J.J.’s head. She made herself move on, though.
There was no point in dwelling on it. Bad enough she’d been such a sap as to fall for him when everything she’d learned over the years had taught her better.
She wasn’t about to let him make her ache.
Instead, she stripped the bed briskly, throwing sheets and spread and mattress cover onto the floor. The thing to do was clean up, get rid of all traces of J.J. and go on with her life. She piled the bedclothes together and picked up a pillow to strip it.
It smelled like him.
Sh
e froze, holding the pillow in her arms as she’d once held J.J. And a wave of misery surged over her.
From the beginning, she’d known what the end would be; she just hadn’t known the how.
And she hadn’t known how much it would hurt.
It was as though some merciless machine had sliced into her and ripped loose something that was woven into the fiber of her being, making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe. For a moment she simply stood and shook.
But with sheer will, she held on. Put it away. Don’t think about it. Over and over she repeated it to herself like a mantra, as she showered and dried her hair, as she put on her makeup, as she drew on a sweater and skirt and shoes. Over and over, she repeated it to herself and gradually she got control.
It would get easier with time. She just needed to get through these first few hours.
Finally she stood at her bureau, studying her earrings, trying to choose which to wear. She was the kind of person who kept solo earrings even when she’d lost their mates, out of some optimistic hope that the missing piece of jewelry might someday appear. It happened just often enough for her to keep her faith.
Pairs, reuniting. Put it away. Don’t think about it.
Instead she strapped on her watch, smoothed back her hair. And then she glanced down and saw the small, polished serenity stone J.J. had given her when he’d first shown up at the museum. Beginnings, read the word etched into its surface.
It was that, finally, that made her weep.
J.J. considered himself a philosophical man. You did what you could do and let the chips fall where they may. Things didn’t always work, but as long as you knew you’d done your best, there was nothing to regret.
Why, then, couldn’t he feel that way about what had happened between Lainie and him? Why couldn’t he stop wanting to put his fist through a wall to get rid of some of the frustration and loss? So she’d never believed in him from day one. So she’d never given them a chance, despite how good they were together. So she’d thrown it all away out of sheer stubbornness. He should forget it and move on. A smart man eventually stopped beating his head against a brick wall.
And yeah, maybe he’d been partly to blame. He tended to bite off more than he could chew; he always had. Mostly, he managed to get everything handled. It was his bad luck that one of the times he hadn’t, had provided Lainie with the excuse to bolt. Your life doesn’t make sense to me. Your world, your glam thing doesn’t work.
Glowering, he shoved a pair of jeans in his duffel with unnecessary force. From the time he’d shown up in Salem, she’d assumed the worst about him. He should be happy to be walking away.
He’d get to Innsbruck, rent a fast car to drive to Sölden and get himself on the slopes. And at night, maybe find some diversion with a lovely lady who’d take his mind off his troubles. If he was going to be hit with his reputation, he might as well enjoy it, right?
Scowling, he yanked open his bureau to grab a couple of T-shirts. He’d enjoy it, all right, and wipe Lainie Trask right out of his head.
Witches and ghouls, Elmo and SpongeBob. The children stood in a ragged line, clutching their pumpkin-patterned carrier bags and shifting back and forth in excitement. A sort of giddy glee hung in the air as Lainie moved up and down the line, adjusting hats and cloaks, wiping noses. Finally the doors to the gym opened and the competitors walked in.
The Salem Costume Parade was under way.
As with the best of contests, it was designed with pomp and ceremony and lots of prizes, so that nearly every participant walked home with something. Any other year, Lainie would have been thrilled. Any other year, it wouldn’t have seemed flat and gray and uninspired.
J.J. should have been there, the thought came unbidden. He’d have made it into an event, getting on the microphone and whipping the audience up into a frenzy. He’d have made every child feel special as he stuck the participation ribbons on their chests or hands or whatever he could reach under the costume.
But J.J. was in Austria, back in his life.
And she was here.
Put it away, don’t think about it. Now was not the time to go into one of those funks that swept over her without warning. She wandered back into the hallway, leaving the group inside to their cookies and punch and candy corn. A few minutes to herself to get her head together and she could go back inside and join the party.
“You miss J.J., don’t you?”
Lainie looked up to see Kisha standing there, a ribbon on her chest. “Hey, sweet girl, what have you got?”
“I won the prize for best home costume.”
“And you deserve it. You win all kinds of prizes in my book,” Lainie told her.
“I wish J.J. could be here.”
It was what she’d dreaded from the moment he’d told her about the cancellation. “I do, too, honey. I know he loved your costume. And I know he wanted to be here. He just couldn’t.” And she realized as she said it, that it was true.
Kisha nodded gravely. “I know. I was sad, but mostly I miss him. When’s he coming back?”
Lainie bit her lip. “I don’t think he is, sweetie. I think he’s gone for good.”
“He can’t be gone,” she objected. “He’s s’posta teach me how to ski. He said it’s going to be my Christmas present.”
J.J. had said lots of things, Lainie thought. “It might have to wait, honey. J.J.’s got important things to do right now.”
“He’ll be back,” Kisha said confidently. “He wouldn’t forget about us.”
And Lainie found herself wanting to believe it.
Skiing was what it was all about. He rose at dawn and hit the slopes, flying down the mountain over and over again until the coaches were telling him he’d had enough.
Of course, he’d never been one for listening.
The skiing saved him, he thought as he stood in the start house. When he was on the mountain, fighting the g-forces, feeling the wind, it kept his mind from running down the same profitless paths. Partying was an empty effort that he’d abandoned the first time he’d tried it. The thing to do was just keep working.
“You want to come back to the real world, there, Cooper?” Doug asked.
J.J. jolted a little and looked down at the snow-covered slope that fell abruptly away from the start house. “I’ll show you real world,” he said, and moved out of the gate, pushing aside the slender pole that started the clock running.
The sudden rush of speed, the drop was a shock to the system. The snow fences were a blur in his peripheral vision. They’d never seen him so focused, the coaches all said, and Doug was congratulating himself for finally establishing discipline. J.J. didn’t bother to tell them the reality—that it was self-defense, the only way he knew to get Lainie out of his head.
The turn came before he’d set himself, so that his skis scooted across the ice-covered snow for a moment as he struggled to stay up. Quads trembling, adrenaline saturated, he fought the g-forces. At ninety miles an hour you didn’t mess around. A man who thought about his girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—when he ought to be thinking about the treacherous angles and curves, the jumps that appeared almost without warning, deserved the flashing chaos of a fall.
He hit the inside of a gate so closely that he brushed it with his shoulder. That was what he needed to do, focus on the curve, the gates, his tuck. Forget thinking about Lainie, forget what might have been.
If only she’d believed in him, even once. Sure, he’d made mistakes, but that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was trust, and if there wasn’t trust there, how could there really be anything else? How could she sit there and tell him she loved him when she never really even believed in who he was? More than three weeks had passed since the scene in her apartment and the question still dogged him.
Only half-focused, he missed his line, cutting in a little too close on the next gate. And like a giant hand, the red fiberglass and plastic flung him back to go spinning spread-eagled down the slope, tumbling, grinding his
face into the snow and ice.
It was, he thought as he got up, a pleasant break compared to what the rest of his days had been like since he and Lainie had split. Then again, you could only split up with a person when you’d been together in the first place. Whether that had been the case, he couldn’t honestly say. They’d been side by side, certainly, but together?
And then he remembered the way it had felt that night he’d returned from Buffalo and he’d held her in his arms. Together? The hell they hadn’t been.
The lanterns from the ghost walk were back in the museum storeroom where they belonged. The grass on the common gradually filled in, obscuring the dents that served as mute reminders of the festival. At a glance it was impossible to tell that anything had ever been there.
Just as at a glance it was impossible to tell that J.J. had ever been a part of her life.
It was just standard post-Halloween letdown, Lainie told herself impatiently. It was an occupational hazard. After all, you couldn’t devote months of energy to pulling off the festival, the galas, the myriad parties, without the events themselves seeming to become memories far too quickly.
Then again, post-Halloween letdown usually lasted a couple of days. When it stretched out into weeks, even she had to acknowledge that it wasn’t just Halloween.
It was J.J.
Memories of him turned her every step around Salem into a ghost walk. She stood outside her house, and the memories were there. She saw Kisha, Latrice and Tyjah at the Human Habitat site and the memories were there. She went into Cool Beans, the memories were there.
But most of all she lay in her bed at night and the memories were there.
During the day she could mostly keep the misery at bay. It was at night that the ache for him came to crouch on her chest like a physical thing, making it impossible to sleep. It was during the night that she wondered if she’d made a big mistake.
Under His Spell (Holiday Hearts #4) Page 19