“Men,” muttered Eunice. “Who needs them?”
“I do,” chorused Amanda and Marion. And at that, all three women laughed.
Eunice patted Amanda’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. After he thinks about it for a while, he’ll forgive you.”
Amanda shook her head, dabbing at her puffy eyes with a wad of damp tissue. “You don’t know Jordan. He’s probably never told a lie in his life. He just flat out doesn’t understand deception.”
“Maybe he’s never lied,” Marion said briskly, “but he’s made mistakes, just like the rest of us. When he calms down, Amanda, he’ll call.”
Amanda prayed her mother was right, but the hollow feeling in the center of her heart made that seem unlikely.
An hour later, when Amanda announced that she was going home, Eunice grabbed her coat and insisted on riding along. She’d make supper, she said, and the two of them could just hang around the way they had in high school.
“I wasn’t planning to stick my head in the oven or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Amanda said with a sad smile as she backed her car out of her parents’ driveway.
Eunice grinned. “And singe those gorgeous, golden tresses? I should hope not.”
Amanda laughed at the image. “You know what, kid? It’s good to have you back.”
Her younger sister patted her arm. “I’ll be around awhile, I think,” she replied. “There’s an opening for a computer programmer at the university. I have an interview the day after Christmas.”
“There’s really no hope of getting back together with Jim, then?” Amanda asked as they wended their way through rainy streets, the windshield wipers beating out a rhythmic accompaniment to their conversation.
Eunice shook her head. “Not when there’s somebody else involved,” she said.
Amanda nodded. Just the idea of Jordan seeing another woman was more than she could tolerate, even with the relationship in ruins.
After parking the car, Amanda and Eunice dashed through the rain to the store on the corner and bought popcorn, a log for the fireplace, a pound of fresh shrimp and the makings for a salad.
Back at Amanda’s apartment, Eunice prepared and cooked the succulent shrimp while Amanda washed and cut up the vegetables.
“You don’t even have a Christmas tree,” Eunice complained later when she was kneeling on the hearth, lighting the paper-wrapped log.
Amanda shrugged. “I was just planning to skip the whole holiday,” she said.
“Knowing Jordan didn’t change that?”
“When I was with him, he was all I thought about,” Amanda explained. “Same thing when I wasn’t with him.”
Eunice grinned and got to her feet, dusting her hands off on the legs of her jeans as if she’d just carried wood in from the wilderness like a pioneer. “You could always throw yourself at his feet and beg for forgiveness.”
Amanda lifted her chin stubbornly and went to the living room window. “I explained everything to him, and he wouldn’t listen.”
Rain pattered at the glass and made the people on the sidewalks below hurry along under their colorful umbrellas. Amanda wondered how many of them were happy and how many had broken hearts.
“You shouldn’t give up if you really care about the guy,” Eunice said softly.
Amanda sighed. “I didn’t give up, Eunice,” she said. “He did.”
At that, the two sisters dropped the subject of Jordan and talked about other Christmases.
Jordan had his own reasons for welcoming the rain, and after he drove on board the ferry to Vashon Island, he stayed in the car, staring bleakly at the empty van ahead of him. He felt hollow and numb, as though all his vitals had shriveled up and disappeared, but he knew the pain would come eventually, and he dreaded it.
After losing Becky, Jordan had made up his mind never to really care about another woman again. That way, he’d reasoned in his naïveté, he’d never have to suffer the way he had after his wife’s death.
The trouble was, he’d reckoned without Amanda Scott.
He’d fallen hard for her without ever really being aware of what was happening. Had he told her that he loved her? He couldn’t remember.
Maybe things would have been different if he had.
Jordan shook his head. He was being stupid. Telling her he cared wouldn’t have prevented her from deceiving him. He drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by dreams of things that might have been, and when the ferry’s horn blasted, he was startled. He hadn’t been aware of the passing time.
Once the boat docked and his turn came, Jordan drove down the ramp, just as he had a million times before. Rain danced on the pavement, and wet gulls hid out beneath the picnic tables in the park he passed. The world was the same, and yet it was different.
He was alone again.
When he entered the kitchen through the garage door minutes later, he heard the stereo blasting. Taking off his jacket and running a hand through his rumpled hair, he went into the living room.
Jessie and Lisa had dragged their presents out from under the mammoth Christmas tree he and Amanda had chosen together, and piled them up in two teetering stacks. The baby-sitter, a teenage girl from down the road, was curled up on the couch, chattering into the telephone receiver.
Sighting Jordan, his daughters flung themselves at him with shrieks of glee, and he lifted one in each arm, making the growling sound they loved and pretending to be bent on chewing off their ears.
The baby-sitter, a plain little thing with thick glasses, hung up the telephone and tiptoed over to the stereo to turn it off.
Jordan let the girls down to the floor, took out his wallet and paid the sitter. The moment she was gone, Jessie folded her arms and announced, “Lisa has more presents than I do.”
Jordan pretended to be horrified. “No!”
“Count them for yourself,” Jessie challenged.
He knelt and began to count. The red-and-silver striped package on the top of Lisa’s stack turned out to be the culprit. “This one is for both of you,” Jordan said, tapping at the gift tag with his finger. “See? It’s says ‘Lisa and Jessie.’”
Jessie examined the tag studiously and was then satisfied that it was still a just world. “Where did Amanda go?” she asked, looking at him with Becky’s eyes. “Why did she run away?”
Jordan had no idea how to explain Amanda’s abrupt disappearance. He still didn’t understand it completely himself. “She’s at her apartment, I guess,” he finally answered.
“But why did she runned away?” Lisa asked, rubbing her eye with the back of one dimpled hand.
“She probably went to heaven, like Mommy,” Jessie said importantly.
Her innocent words went through Jordan like a lance. Young as they were, these kids were developing a strategy for being left—Mommy went to heaven; Daddy doesn’t have time for us; Amanda was just passing through.
Jordan kissed both his girls resoundingly on the forehead. “Amanda’s not in heaven,” he said, sounding hoarse even to himself. “She’s in Seattle. Now put these presents back under the tree before Santa finds out you’ve been messing around with them and fills your stockings with clam shells.”
The telephone rang just as Jordan was rising to his feet, but he didn’t lunge for it, even though that was his first instinct. He answered in a leisurely, offhand way, but his heart was pounding.
“Hi, little brother. It’s Karen,” his sister said warmly. “How are the monkeys getting along?”
Jordan forced himself to chuckle; he felt like weeping with disappointment. So it wasn’t Amanda. What would he have said to her if it had been? “Do they always pile their presents in the middle of the living room?” he countered, trying to sound lighthearted.
Karen laughed. “No, that’s a new one,” she said. “How are you doing, Jord?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Me? I’m doing great.” For somebody who’s just had his insides torn out, that is.
“No problems with mem
ories?”
Jordan sighed and watched his children as they put their colorful gifts back underneath the tree. It seemed hard to believe there had ever been a time when he found it difficult even to look at them because they reminded him so much of Becky. “I guess I’m over that,” he said huskily.
“Sounds to me like things are a little rocky.”
Karen had always been perceptive. “It’s something else,” he said. The pain he’d been expecting was just starting to set in. “Listen, Karen, you and Paul and I have to have a talk about the girls. I want to spend more time with them.”
“Took you long enough,” Karen responded, her voice gentle.
Jordan remembered how she’d helped him through those dark days after Becky had died; she’d been there for him while he was in the hospital, and later, too. If she’d been in his living room instead of miles away on the peninsula, he’d have told her about Amanda.
“Better late than never,” he finally replied.
“Paul and I will be down on Christmas Eve, as planned,” Karen went on, probably sensing that Jordan wasn’t going to confide anything important over the phone. “Save some room under that tree, because we’re bringing a carload of loot, and Becky’s parents will send boxes of stuff.”
Jordan chuckled and shook his head. “Just what they need,” he said, watching the greedy munchkins playing tug-of-war with a box wrapped in shiny blue paper. “See you Christmas Eve, sis.”
Karen said a few more words, then hung up.
“I’m hungry,” said Lisa as a stain spread slowly through the fabric of her plaid jeans.
“She peed her pants,” Jessie pointed out quite unnecessarily.
With a grin, Jordan swept his younger daughter up in his arms and carried her off to the bathroom.
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and Amanda Scott was feeling sorry for herself. She sat with her feet up in front of the fire while her mother, stepfather and sister bundled up to go to the midnight service at church.
“No fair peeking in the stockings while we’re gone,” said Bob with a smile and a shake of his finger.
Marion and Eunice were less understanding. They both looked as though they wanted to shake her.
“Moping around this house won’t change anything,” Marion scolded.
“Yeah,” Eunice agreed, gesturing. “Put on your coat and come with us.”
“I’m wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, in case you haven’t noticed,” Amanda pointed out archly. Bob had on his best suit, and Marion and Eunice were both in new dresses.
“Nobody’s going to notice,” Marion fussed, and she looked so hopeful that Amanda would change her mind that Amanda relented and pushed herself out of the chair.
Soon, she was settled beside Eunice in the back seat of her parents’ car. It was so much like the old days that for a while Amanda was able to pretend her life wasn’t in ruins.
“Maybe a little angel will whisper in Jordan’s ear and he’ll call you,” Eunice said in a low voice as Marion and Bob sang carols exuberantly in the front seat.
Amanda gave her sister a look. “And maybe Saint Nicholas will land on our roof tonight in a sleigh drawn by eight tiny reindeer.”
“Okay, then,” Eunice responded, bristling, “why don’t you call him?”
The truth was that Amanda had dialed Jordan’s number a hundred times since they’d parted. Once she’d even waited to hear him say hello before hanging up. “Gee, why don’t I?” she retorted. “Or better yet, I could plunge headfirst off an overpass. I just love pain.”
Eunice folded her arms. “Don’t be such a poop, Amanda. I’m only trying to help.”
“It isn’t working,” Amanda responded, turning her head to look out at the festive lights trimming roofs and windows and shrubbery.
The church service was soothing, as family traditions often are, and Amanda was feeling a little better when they drove back home. They all sat around the tree, sipping eggnog and listening to carols, and when Bob and Marion finally retired for the night, Eunice dug a package out from under a mountain of gifts and extended it.
Amanda accepted the present, but refused to open it until she had found her gift to Eunice. It was another tradition; as girls, the sisters had always made their exchange just before going to bed.
When Amanda opened her gift, she laughed. It was a copy of Gathering Up the Pieces, the same book she’d bought for Eunice.
Eunice was amazed when she opened her package. “I don’t believe this,” she whispered, a wide smile on her face. She turned back the flyleaf. “And it’s autographed. Wow.”
“I waited in line for hours to get it signed,” Amanda exaggerated. She was remembering meeting Jordan that day, and feeling all the resultant pain.
“Let’s go to bed and read ourselves to sleep,” Eunice suggested, standing up and switching off the Christmas tree. Its veil of tinsel seemed to whisper a silvery song in the darkness.
“Good idea,” Amanda answered.
She was all the way up to chapter three before she finally closed her eyes.
The kids were asleep and so, as far as Jordan knew, were Paul and Karen. He sat up in bed, switched on the lamp and reached for the telephone on the nightstand. The picture of Becky had been moved to a shelf in his study, but he looked at the place where it had stood and said, “Know what, Becky? I’ve got it bad.”
A glance at his watch told him it was after two in the morning. If he called Amanda now, he would be sure to wake her up, but he didn’t care. Whatever happened, he had to hear her voice and wish her a merry Christmas.
He punched out the number and waited, nervous as a high school kid. While the call went through, a number of scenarios came to mind—such as James answering with a sleepy “Hello.” Or Amanda telling him to go straight to hell.
Instead he got a recorded voice. “Hi. This is Amanda Scott, and I can’t come to the phone right now….”
Jordan hung up without leaving a message, switched off the light and lay back on his pillows. She was probably at her parents’ place, he told himself.
Or maybe she was in Hawaii, helping James recuperate.
Jordan turned onto his stomach and slammed one fist into the pillow. He knew the lush plains and contours of Amanda’s body, and he begrudged them to every other man on earth. They were his to touch, and no one else’s.
His groin knotted as he recalled how it was to bury himself in Amanda’s depths, to feel her hands moving on his back and the insides of her thighs against his hips. She’d lain beneath him like a temptress, her eyes smoldering, her body rising to meet his, stroke for stroke, her hands curled on the sides of the pillow.
But then, as release approached, she would bite down hard on her lower lip and roll her eyes back, focusing dreamily on nothing at all. A low, keening whimper would escape her as she surrendered completely, breaking past her clamped teeth to become a shameless groan…
Jordan sat bolt upright in bed and switched on the lamp again. He couldn’t quite face the prospect of a cold shower, but he was too uncomfortable to stay where he was. He tossed back the covers, reached for his robe and tied it tightly around his waist. The cloth stood out like canvas stretched over a tent pole.
Feeling reasonably certain he wouldn’t meet anybody, Jordan slipped out of his room and down the darkened stairs. In the kitchen he poured himself a glass of chocolate milk and carried it back to the living room. There he sat, staring at the silent glimmer of the dark Christmas tree, the bulging shapes of the stockings. The thin light of a winter moon poured in through the smoked-glass windows, making everything look unfamiliar.
“Jordan?” It was Karen’s voice, and seconds before she switched on the lights, he grabbed a sofa pillow and laid it on his lap. His plump, pretty sister, bundled in her practical blue chenille robe, looked at him with concern. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Jordan answered, tossing back the last of his chocolate milk as though it could give him the same solace as brandy or good whiskey. Sin
ce it was safe to set aside the pillow, he did. “Don’t ever let anybody tell you it’s ‘better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all,’” he advised, sounding for all the world like a melancholy drunk. “I’ve done it twice, and I wish to God I’d joined the foreign legion, instead.”
Karen sat down next to him. “So you’re just going to give up, huh?”
“Yeah,” Jordan answered obstinately. He had to change the subject, or risk being smothered in images of Amanda lying in somebody else’s bed. “About the kids—”
“You want them back,” Karen guessed with a gentle smile.
Jordan nodded.
10
Amanda sat staring at the bank draft in amazement that dreary Saturday morning in February while a gray rain drizzled at the kitchen windows. “I don’t understand,” she muttered, glancing from Marion’s smiling face to Bob’s to Eunice’s. “What’s this for?”
Bob reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “I guess you could say it’s an investment. You’ve been walking around here for two months looking as though you’ve lost your last friend, so your mother and I decided you needed a lift. It’s enough for the down payment on that old house you wanted, isn’t it?”
Amanda swallowed, reading the numbers on the check in disbelief. It was five times the down payment the owner demanded—Amanda still called once a week to see if the house had sold, and had gone to see it twice—and must have represented a major chunk of her parents’ savings account. “I can’t take this,” she said. “You’ve worked so hard and budgeted so carefully….”
But Bob and Marion presented a united front, and they were backed up by a beaming Eunice, who was now working full-time at the university and living in her own apartment.
“You have to accept it,” Marion said firmly. “We won’t take no for an answer.”
“But suppose I fail?” Since the breakup with Jordan, Amanda’s confidence had taken a decided dip, and everything was more difficult than it should have been.
Daring Moves Page 13