His, Unexpectedly

by Susan Fox

  He wanted her agreement, a tenderly passionate kiss to seal the deal.

  Instead, he got, “Oh, God.” She huffed out a sigh, then caught his hand in hers and began to walk again, tugging him along with her, the sand cool underfoot. “This has to be hard for you, too. Forging ahead on trust, with no project plan.”

  Okay, she wasn’t sure yet. “Yeah, kind of. But someone’s been teaching me to be more impulsive. You’re a good influence.”

  “Huh. That’s not something people usually say about me. Though Merilee did last night …” She cleared her throat. “Mark, I really like what’s happening between us, but I don’t want you inviting me to Indonesia just because we’re, uh, maybe getting together. I want to know I’d be useful.”

  Maybe it wasn’t her feelings for him she was uncertain about. Had her family been undermining her self-confidence again? He nodded strongly. “You’ll be an asset to the team.”

  “Everyone else will be so much better qualified.”

  “You learn quickly. In Indonesia, that’ll be enough.” Thinking ahead, though … “But yeah, it’d be a good idea to take some courses whenever you get an opportunity.” The more she learned, the more deeply she’d get involved, the more contribution she’d make, and the better she’d feel about herself.

  “What kind of courses? You mean, I could study in Indonesia?”

  She was that eager to get started? Thrilled, he squeezed her hand. “Maybe. Two of the team members are Indonesian and they’d have some suggestions. But I was thinking more of later on, once you have a better idea which direction you want to go in.” She could register at a university and do distance ed. Almost anywhere their work took them, there’d be some kind of internet connection.

  “Direction?”

  “You know, the ocean itself, marine mammals, fish, economic aspects. This time, you can assist here and there, but you may decide you want to specialize.”

  “Specialize?”

  Was he lecturing again? She was repeating his words as if he wasn’t making sense. “Though, come to think of it, working with people is probably going to be where you fit best. You have a knack with people. So, maybe the educational and community liaison areas would be best for you. Are you good at picking up languages?”

  Dryly, she said, “I can say Voulez-vous couchez avec moi? in ten different languages.”

  “Huh?”

  “Joke. Mark, what are you talking about? This is a six month project. How many courses can I take, how much specializing can I do in that time period?”

  “Sorry, I wasn’t being clear. I meant after. After Indonesia. You’ve been jumping all over the place, doing good things but in an unfocused way, and without much training. Once you focus on one cause, you can get the training you need, and you’ll be so much more effective.”

  She didn’t respond, but her steps slowed, then stopped. She slid her hand free of his and faced him. “Let me get this straight,” she said, face tilted up to him in the moonlight. “You want me to commit to one cause. Your cause.”

  Wasn’t that what he’d been saying ever since he asked her to consider a future together? “Yeah. Then we can work together.”

  “Oh,” she said flatly. “I should take on your cause so we can work together.”

  She sounded as if she had a problem, but he didn’t understand what it was. “You’re already an environmentalist. And you like helping people, and that’s usually part of the projects too. This’ll be perfect for you.”

  “Hmm. Perfect for me. Once I get all educated and focused and serious. In other words, it’s time I grew up?” The words were spoken slowly with an almost deadly calm. Her tone was a warning of sorts, except he still didn’t understand her problem.

  Cautiously, he said, “Well, yeah.”

  “Shit.” The word exploded out of her. “I’m not good enough for you.”

  “No!” He gripped her shoulders. “That’s not what I said. You’re great. Just a little, uh …”

  He said, “unfocused” as she said “immature?”

  “You’re not immature, exactly. Just, uh …” How could he phrase it tactfully?

  “A butterfly? I thought you liked butterflies.”

  “I do, but I’d rather not live with one.”

  “Oh, I don’t see any danger of that,” she spat out, wrenching herself from his grip. “If you got your hands on a butterfly, you’d net it and clip its wings.”

  She thought he wanted to do that? Angry himself now, he said, “God, Jenna, I don’t want to tie you down and clip your wings. Just help you make your life count for more.”

  He could almost see steam pouring out of her ears, but he stumbled on. “You have so much to offer, and you’re not making the most of it.”

  “Is that my duty? To make the most of my potential?”

  “Uh … Why wouldn’t you want to?”

  “Because this is me.” She flung her arms wide, eyes blazing brighter than the stars. “This is my potential. Some people actually like me the way I am. Just not my family, or you.”

  “I do like you. Jesus, didn’t I tell you I was falling for you?” He dragged a hand through his hair in frustration. “Damn, Jenna, I’m not perfect. I can be rigid. I’m not great with people. I suck at conversation.” He snorted bitterly. “Which I’m proving right now. But hell, you’ve made me see I can change. Why won’t you do the same?”

  “Oh, big change, now you taste food. If you’ve changed because of me, it’s to make your life broader.” She planted her fists on her hips and glared. “You want to make mine narrow, to tie me down.”

  “No.” He tried to explain. “To focus you.”

  “Same diff. You’re just like my freaking parents. I’m not good enough for you unless I’m exactly the way you want me to be.”

  “Of course you’re good enough. All I want is—” He broke off, not knowing how to finish that sentence.

  “A woman your grandparents would approve of?”

  It wouldn’t hurt.

  She gripped her head, shook it, and made an aarrugghh sound like a volcano about to erupt. “I was so freaking wrong about you!”

  Bitterly, he said, “I guess I was wrong about you, too. You care more about flitting around having fun than making the world a better place.”

  “Yeah, exactly.” She tossed her head. “Jesus, you’re just like your grandparents were with your mom.”

  “Huh? You’re not like Alicia. I’m not like them. What the hell are you talking about?” He was so damned confused. How had things blown up this way? Where had he and Jenna gone wrong? “I don’t get it. I asked you to think about a future together, and it seemed to me you were doing that. You talked about a dream come true. I thought we were on the same track. What did you think I meant?”

  “That we’d—” Her eyes were wide in the moonlight. She shook her head vigorously. “Shit, I don’t know. Spend six months in Indonesia then, if things worked out with us, we’d … I don’t know, go where the wind took us. Follow our dreams. I don’t know!” She turned and stalked away from him, back in the direction of the parking lot.

  Trying to figure out what she was talking about, he headed after her. “You know the ocean is my life’s work. You didn’t seriously think I’d … go to England and teach autistic kids?”

  “I don’t know what I thought,” she said angrily. “I hadn’t got that far ahead. I don’t plan, Mark, you know that, and it turns out you’re trying to schedule my entire freaking life!”

  “You don’t have the guts to commit to anything and see it through.” As always, he spoke what he believed, but the moment the words left his mouth, he knew they’d piss her off.

  Sure enough … “Oh, I’m deeply committed to walking away from you and never speaking to you again.”

  She strode as fast as a person could walk in the soft sand and he kept pace. Where before he’d felt a current of warm energy between them, now he felt spiky tension.

  The thing was, he didn’t want a woman who
couldn’t commit. Jenna had bedazzled him, and he’d stopped being rational. She’d never hidden who she was; he just hadn’t wanted to see it.

  She stopped dead and glared at him again. “Don’t walk with me!”

  “Jesus. Fine. Go.” He stayed put as she again stalked off. And he’d thought he was falling in love with this woman. She was a child, and she’d never grow up.

  I drove home furious with Mark and myself. How could I have been so stupid as to let myself dream? To think about love and kids? Bitter tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Mark didn’t want me; he wanted to manipulate me into being someone who fit his life.

  And I’d been stupid. This was all my own damn fault. Again. Just like with Travis, I’d fallen for a guy, and it had shot my judgment all to hell. If I’d been thinking rather than caught up in some romantic dream, I’d have realized that, of course, for him, the future meant his work. His projects. His choices. With me trailing along behind. Wings clipped, tethered, rather than flying free.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. How many times was I going to let a man—no, my own stupidity—kill my dreams?

  When I drove up the driveway, eyes aching with the need to cry, I saw Merilee’s and Matt’s cars. When I pushed the control to open the garage door, Dad’s car was there too. It was late, and I hoped everyone had gone to bed because the last thing I felt like was talking.

  Unfortunately, when I walked into the kitchen, Mom, Dad, and Tree were at the kitchen table with mugs, a teapot that smelled of Lady Grey, and a plate of Digestive biscuits.

  For a moment, surprise cut through the pain. “Mom? You’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow.”

  “I finished early and changed my flight.” She rose, trim in a tailored, navy skirt suit and white blouse though her stockinged feet were shoeless, and gave me a hug. “It’s good to see you, Jenna.”

  For a moment I wanted to cling there and be comforted. But that wasn’t how things worked with her. Every ounce of comfort was accompanied by a liberal splash of interrogation, criticism, or advice.

  Sure enough, she said, “I hope you brought my car back safely.”

  I pushed out of her arms and glared at Tree who said, “I didn’t tell her.”

  Mom said with a trace of humor, “I’m a mother. I have eyes in the back of my head. You girls should know that.”

  “Dad?” I glanced at him.

  “I came back and your mother’s car was gone. I didn’t know you’d borrowed it.”

  How had absent-minded Dad suddenly started noticing cars that weren’t there? And how prosaic this car conversation felt, when I was dying inside. All the same, if I concentrated on it, I could hold my feelings inside.

  “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t have borrowed it, but I needed to go out, and everyone else was using theirs.”

  “Out? To see this new man of yours?”

  Again, I glared at Tree. She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, I told her that one.”

  “As if I hadn’t figured it out myself,” Mom said briskly, getting another mug from the cupboard and pouring tea for me. “Your e-mails weren’t exactly subtle. Sit, Jenna.”

  I wanted to go to bed and cry in peace, but it was hard to say no to my mother. Indecisively, I hovered by the table and picked up the mug.

  “Is it true?” she asked. “This man’s a marine biologist, and you’re thinking of going off to Indonesia with him? How long have you known him? And why don’t you look happier about it?”

  “No.” The word came out heavily, and Tree shot me a startled gaze. “No, it’s not going to happen.” I put the mug down, tea untasted. “It was all a mistake.” I fought to hold back tears as I made for the door.

  “Jenna?” Mom called.

  “A stupid mistake.” I didn’t turn around. “It’s over, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I hurried up the stairs, seeking the sanctuary of my room before I let the tears fall. I was almost there when quick footsteps sounded behind me. “Jenna?” Tree said quietly.

  When I opened the door to my room, she came in behind me, flipped on the light, and closed the door. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, of course,” I snapped, blinking against moisture. “He’s just another guy.”

  She gazed into my eyes, concern on her face. “He isn’t. You made that clear last night.”

  Vibrating with pain and the need to cry, I said, “I was wrong, okay?”

  “Maybe wrong to trust him.” She touched my shoulder tentatively. Theresa had never been the demonstrative type. “But, Jenna, you care for him. He’s different. And now he’s hurt you.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Heartbroken, I couldn’t come up with a flip response or hold back the tears any longer.

  “Oh, Jenna.” She put her arms around me. “I’m sorry.”

  Cautiously, I rested my head on her shoulder, a place it had rarely been. It felt surprisingly natural, and I slid my arms around her waist and snuggled closer. “Thanks.” I heaved a deep sigh, sniffled and, trying to convince both of us, forced out, “I’ll get over it.”

  “He’s a jerk.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  If I did, she’d take Mark’s side. My whole family thought exactly the same as him: that I needed to grow up. Why couldn’t anyone love me for exactly who I was? “No. But thanks.” Slowly I lifted my head and tried to curve my tear-damp lips. “Thanks for the hug.”

  “Any time. And if you can’t sleep and change your mind about wanting to talk, come wake me up.”

  She rubbed my shoulder in a comforting gesture, then left me alone.

  I looked around my bedroom. Travel posters with happy families on tropical beaches. Dreams. Childish dreams.

  Never again.

  I darted over to the nearest wall, grabbed the corner of a poster, and ripped. Tears raining down, I tore every single poster off every wall.

  That was what I should have done when I was seventeen. Then, I’d thought I’d let the old dreams go, but I never really had. They’d lingered on the walls of my old room, lingered in the corners of my heart just waiting for Mark to reawaken them.

  Never again. Never again would I let a man make me vulnerable. Make me hope.

  A strange, cold peace filled me.

  Everyone had wanted me to grow up. Well, I’d finally done it. In my own way.

  When I woke, feeling tired and drained, it was later than usual. But life went on. I was a new woman. A battered but stronger, smarter one.

  Thank heavens for the wedding. I’d tell Tree to keep me as busy as she possibly could.

  I showered and dressed in old clothes from my Vancouver closet: white capris and a sleeveless blue shirt. Then I headed downstairs. This morning was not a time for chamomile tea. I needed coffee. Serious coffee. The kind Mark brewed in his French press.

  Would I ever drink coffee again without thinking of him?

  I stepped through the kitchen doorway into the sunny room and stopped in surprise. At this hour, I’d have expected Mom and Dad to be off to work, but Mom was still there. Along with my three sisters. No Matt and no Nav.

  The women had clearly broken off in the middle of conversation when they saw me and now, from seats around the kitchen table, they all stared at me.

  “Yes, it’s over with Mark and yes, I’m fine. Subject closed. Sorry I’m late.” I went to the coffeemaker, paused, then decided the need for a megadose of caffeine overcame any stupid associations with Mark. As I poured myself a mug, I said, “What’s on the agenda for today? Mom, did Tree rope you in, too?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “Get some food and come sit down.”

  Our family was casual about breakfasts. Usually, no one cooked. So it was no surprise to see a litter of bagels, whole grain bread, cereal boxes, and fruit on the counter. Nothing appealed to me.

  Damn, I wasn’t going to let Mark kill my appetite. Or, if he did, I wasn’t about to let my family know. I swung the fridge door open
and peered inside, searching for something to tempt me. Aha. I reached into the back and pulled out a plastic container with leftover chocolate mousse.

  I opened it, stuck a spoon into it, and came to the table, taking a seat beside Tree, across from Kat and Merilee. Mom, of course, was at one end.

  “For breakfast?” Tree said.

  “Let her be,” Mom said.

  “Wish I’d seen it first.” Kat darted her coffee spoon across the table toward my mousse.

  I curved my arms protectively around it. “Well, you didn’t.”

  Merilee laughed softly, and we all joined in. How about that? I could laugh.

  Then Mom cleared her throat. “Jenna, about this man—”

  No, please no. “It’s over,” I said flatly. “I’m not running off to Indonesia. Forget about it. Now, let’s get going on whatever we’re supposed to be doing this morning.”

  “This is what we’re supposed to be doing,” she said, looking … softer, somehow, and less certain than usual. “We, uh, we’re here for you.”

  Here for me? As in … “You stayed home from the office because …”

  “Because you care for this man. You thought he was different, special. And he hurt you. We want to help.”

  “We do,” Kat said, reaching over again, this time to rest her hand on mine.

  I glanced around the table, and they all nodded. My mom, my sisters.

  Tears burned the backs of my eyes. I forced them back. “Thanks. That’s really nice. But, I’m okay.”

  Mom leaned forward, the lawyer and the mother in her both knowing how to command attention. “This is the only time you’ve ever said you cared for a man. Always, since that time you ran away with that boy in high school, you’ve said you’re not a one-man girl, that you want to sample all the fish in the sea.”

  Did she have to use an ocean analogy? “A smorgasbord.” I tried to smile. “Still sounds good to me.”

  “But it hurts,” Tree said. “You cared for him, and he hurt you. When that happened to me, with Jeffrey, you all took my side and helped me through it.”

  It had been one of the rare times when our entire family came together and agreed on something. But that had been so clear-cut. Her new husband had betrayed Tree by appropriating her research. Of course we took her side.