The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel

by Stansfield, Anita

  “Okay,” Ekert said, and they went down a hall, away from the noise, and through a door that said Jackson T. Leeds on it. “Have a seat,” he told Chas, and Veese set down her bag. But the two men left the door open and remained near it in the hallway. She ignored them, glad their backs were turned, while she remained on her feet and took in her surroundings.

  The room’s size and its fine furnishings were an indication of his status. She briefly perused the things on top of his desk, which indicated a very busy man. She smiled to see one of the framed photos she’d sent him sitting there. She wondered why the men who’d come to get her hadn’t recognized her from it, but noticed that it was facing Jackson’s chair, not the other chairs across from his desk.

  She was amazed at the number of framed certificates and awards behind the desk, including his college diploma. But she was more intrigued by the other wall that was covered with framed photographs. Most of them had Jackson in them with other people. Some appeared to have been taken at important events. Many were military, with a mixture of formal and casual. She thought of Martin, but with less pain than she’d become accustomed to feeling over thoughts of him. She liked seeing Jackson younger, and with his hair much darker, but she concluded that he had aged well, and he was definitely a man who had improved with maturity.

  She was studying a picture of him and three other men looking as if they had literally just survived a battle, standing in front of a helicopter, when she heard his voice in the hall. Her stomach flip-flopped and her heart quickened.

  “Thank you,” she heard him say. “Don’t forget that I want those reports on my desk Monday morning when I get here.”

  “Yes, sir,” one of them replied.

  “Have a great weekend, boss.”

  “You too,” Jackson said and stepped into the room.

  In the few seconds it took him to close the door, Chas took him in visually and felt utterly giddy. He wore dark slacks, a light blue button-up shirt, and a striped tie. And a leather shoulder holster with a pistol. For a long moment they just looked at each other, then he showed that rare full smile that lit up his eyes. “Wow,” he said and chuckled. “It is really good to see you.”

  “You too,” she said. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to kiss me?”

  He smiled again and stepped slowly toward her, as if he were savoring the anticipation. Chas knew her heart had rarely if ever pounded so hard as he took her face into his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

  “Oh,” he said, looking into her eyes, “I do believe in miracles. It is so good to see you.”

  “Amen,” she murmured and urged him to kiss her again, then she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly while she settled her head against the warm familiar spot on his shoulder. The only thing that felt unfamiliar was the leather strap of the holster. But it suited him so well that it took no effort to become accustomed to it. He held her tightly and pressed a kiss into her hair. The warmth and secure familiarity of their embrace soothed and filled her.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” he said. “I had great fantasies about a romantic airport reunion.”

  “Me too. But it’s okay.” She looked up at him. “They took very good care of me.”

  “They’d better have.”

  “And now I know how it feels to be in FBI custody. I was wondering if you did that on purpose.”

  “What?”

  “Sent agents to get me without telling them we had any personal connection?”

  He chuckled. “No, but now that you mention it . . . it was pretty clever of me. I just don’t need these people knowing my personal life. All they would do is razz me about it.”

  “At least you have a personal life. That’s a positive development, right?”

  “Very positive,” he said and kissed her again.

  Chas eased away as she said, “So, apparently you’re a pretty important guy around here. I think you’ve been holding out on me.”

  “There’s nothing I could have told you that would have impressed you,” he said as she sat in his chair and he sat on the edge of the desk. “There’re many people I have to answer to. I’m just somewhere in the middle.”

  “But getting here . . . to the middle . . . can’t have been easy.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  She turned in the chair to look again at his awards and photos. He noticed and said, “It’s kind of vain, I know. But everything on the walls is a piece of evidence that reminds me—and the people I have to face—that I’ve earned the right to sit in that chair. It gives me perspective.”

  “I like that about you, Agent Leeds.”

  “You like what?”

  “The way you appreciate perspective.” She spun his chair like a child so that it went around several times. “I’m getting a whole new perspective on you.”

  “It’s still me.”

  “Yes,” she said, stopping the chair, “it only took about thirty seconds to realize that.” She smiled, and he smiled back. “So, I’m here.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “I did it. I drove to Butte, got on a plane, got an FBI escort, and I’m here. No panic attacks or anything.”

  “Remarkable! I told you I believe in miracles.” He laughed softly. “It is really good to see you. This office has never looked better, and next week when I come back to it, it’s going to be really drab.”

  “Don’t think about that now. I just got here. What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to stop by my place long enough for me to change my clothes, then we’ll check you in at your hotel, and then I have reservations at my favorite restaurant. Tomorrow we’re going to see the sights and spend the entire day holding hands while we do it.”

  “Sounds great so far.”

  “On Sunday . . .” He used a dramatic voice to indicate he had a great surprise. “I found a Mormon church and figured out what time they meet.”

  “You’re taking me to church?”

  “I am,” he said proudly. “And then I thought we could cook dinner at my place and watch a sappy movie, or something. And Monday . . . well, I don’t want to talk about Monday. We have time to go out to breakfast before I take you to the airport, and then I have to be back at my desk by noon.”

  “You’re right. Let’s not talk about Monday.” She stood up. “Come on, Leeds. I want to see where you live. Fair is fair.”

  He picked up her bag and opened the door, motioning her into the hallway. They walked side-by-side toward the elevator, and she took another good look at all of the people working here, and the activity taking place. It was a lot more complicated—and noisy—than running an inn.

  In the elevator, Jackson kissed her again since they were alone, then he smiled at her as the doors opened and they walked to a dark blue SUV. He pushed the button on the remote and the back opened, where he put her bag. Then he opened the passenger door for her and she got in.

  While he was driving she could only stare at him. “I can’t believe I’m here . . . with you.”

  He took her hand and kissed it. “I can’t believe it either.” He stopped at a traffic light and gave her a quick kiss. “It is really good to see you.”

  “You too.”

  He pointed out some things about places they were passing, but she felt indifferent to anything but being with him. His apartment turned out to be one floor of a four-story home that was connected on both sides to a long row of similar homes. They were beautiful and classic, and it was obviously a nice part of the city. But she didn’t know how he could handle the closed-in feeling. When she mentioned that, he only said, “I’m not home much, and when I am, I’m on the phone.”

  The apartment itself was fairly tidy, but then he’d known she was coming. She knew, however, from his staying at the inn, that he was a fairly tidy man. The apartment was simple and practical, and looked like a place where a man lived alone. He gave her a brief tour, then he went into the bedroom and closed the door, t
elling her he’d only be a few minutes. She looked around more carefully, and everywhere she looked, she found cards she had sent him, along with pictures of the two of them together. He came out dressed in the way she was most accustomed to seeing him, wearing jeans and a dark polo shirt. He gave her another kiss, and they went to the hotel where she was staying. He checked her in, then carried her bag for her as they went to the room to make certain everything was in order. Then they left to get to the restaurant where he’d made reservations. Dinner was wonderful, and being with him was heavenly. The sparkle in his eyes strengthened her hope that one day he might choose her over his job. But she couldn’t think about that too deeply at the moment.

  The remainder of the weekend was everything Chas had been hoping for. They had a wonderful time, and being together helped fill the reservoir of loneliness for both of them. But saying good-bye at the airport was excruciating. She was aware of him lingering while she went through security, then once she was past the metal detectors, she waved and blew a kiss. He returned the gesture, and she had to turn and walk away in order to keep from sobbing in public.

  On returning home, Chas was glad to see the inn and to be back within its secure walls. She and Jackson quickly settled into their old routine of exchanging phone calls and cards. She began to wonder if she was being stubborn about her resistance to leave the inn, and she made it a matter of serious prayer, along with the question of whether she should continue to remain invested in her relationship with Jackson. If he wasn’t the right man for her, then this was just torture for both of them. With time she got her answers very clearly. She did need to remain at the inn, and she needed to be patient with Jackson. But her convictions had deepened. She knew her place in Jackson’s life, and she could only hope that he could come to the same conclusion.

  Weeks later, while she was struggling to hold on to the answers she’d received, Chas felt impressed to read her patriarchal blessing. She hadn’t done this for a long time, probably a year or more. In actuality, she’d probably only read it a handful of times in the years since she’d received the blessing. It had always left her feeling like something wasn’t right in her life, like maybe the promised blessings were not meant to be hers at all. She’d never been able to read it without missing Martin and feeling that he had been her one chance at having certain things in her life. She was surprised now to have her mind filled with an entirely different perspective, and the warmth in her heart verified that these promises were not related to Martin, but to Jackson. She read the phrases through five or six times, asking herself if she was putting Jackson into it simply because she wanted him there. But deep inside, she knew it was him. The answers she had received before were reaffirmed now. They were meant to be together, and she knew it.

  With that conviction fresh in her heart, she read the specified sentences again, overcome with joy and peace. There it was in black and white, that in this mortal life she would kneel at a temple altar with the man of her choosing, and together they would bring children into the world and do much good with their arms linked in living the gospel.

  While the feelings were still strong, Chas wrote them down in her journal. She’d hardly touched her journal since Jackson had come into her life, and then she’d lost her grandmother. Now she started spending some time with it every day until she was able to fully record the events that were close to her heart; some wonderful, some sad, all a part of the woman she was becoming.

  Months passed with nothing changing in either of their lives, but Chas kept reminding herself to be patient with Jackson, and to accept that she couldn’t possibly comprehend the grand scheme of life from God’s perspective. She simply had to trust in Him.

  Jackson came to the inn for a weekend late in the summer. It was so wonderful to have him there that Chas was almost delirious. They settled immediately into a comfortable routine, although Chas left most of the work to Polly and Jen so that she could enjoy Jackson’s company. His stay was way too brief, but Chas tried to focus on how grateful she was to see him at all. She didn’t know if it was a curse or a blessing to have his presence at the inn renew her deep desire to have him there permanently. She’d been praying for an opportunity to bring it up, and as the time drew near for him to leave, she knew she couldn’t put it off. During a quiet moment, she took his hand and said, “I don’t want to keep living like this, Jackson. If this is going to be a permanent long-distance relationship, I . . .”

  “You what?”

  “I want more. I think you want more as well.”

  He sighed. “I do, Chas. I just . . . need time.”

  “Time to what? Become more settled into your work? Time to get yourself into a dangerous situation and never come back to me at all?”

  “I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated. “I just . . . feel like something is undone, like there’s something I need to do.”

  “You can’t track those drug dealers down single-handedly.”

  “No, but I know more about them than anyone else.”

  “Then teach someone else what you know.”

  “It’s not that simple. My gut tells me I need to stay . . . at least for now. And even if I were ready to retire and leave it all behind, how do I know that you’re going to pray and get the answer that it’s all right to marry a man like me?”

  Chas looked at him firmly. She wanted him to know the conviction she felt. “I already have. I’ve known for months.”

  Jackson couldn’t respond to that. The silence became loud while he pondered the implication in light of everything he knew about her.

  “Does that make a difference?” she asked.

  “Maybe. Why haven’t you said anything?”

  “I was trying to be patient and give you the time that you need. I’m not feeling very patient. I’m feeling more like . . . if something doesn’t change for us soon . . .”

  “What?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just paranoid. I feel like something bad is going to happen to you. Or there’s the old fear that you’re just going to realize you don’t want to marry me after all and you’ll just stop calling.”

  “I would never do that.”

  “I know, Jackson. This is fear talking, and I should learn not to be so paranoid . . . but I just can’t shake this feeling.”

  Again there was silence until he said, “I just need a little more time. Let me think it through, and . . . I don’t know. I’ll make a decision.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

  It didn’t come up again before he left, but when they embraced as he was leaving, Chas felt a horrible sense that she might not ever see him again. She told him twice to be careful, and he insisted that he would. But she still couldn’t shake that feeling.

  CHAPTER 16

  Jackson rose from the chair behind his desk when one of his superiors entered the room with an unmistakable air of determination and purpose. He was wearing an expression that Jackson knew well. Something had upset him, and something needed to be done about it. He started out by bringing up a particular group of drug dealers that Jackson had been tracking for years, using a number of unfavorable words as adjectives. Jackson knew well the people he was referring to; they were responsible for the deaths that still haunted him—and everyone else in this office. Jackson was then informed that they had obtained an incredible lead about something going down in a third-world country with these people, and Jackson was the only one who knew them well enough to go undercover and be the spearhead for a plan to bring them down. His Marine experience was crucial to the plan that had apparently been formulated by his superiors in the last ten minutes. Hearing that made him nervous.

  “Okay,” Jackson said, “what do you need me to do?” His heart was pounding while his mind swirled with a combination of thoughts. Maybe this was what he’d been waiting for. And now it could all be over and he could retire in peace and get married.

  “We’re leaving now,” he was told.

  “Now?
”

  “This minute.”

  Jackson felt a little panicked. “Okay, I just need to make one call and—”

  “No calls.” The director took his phone, turned it off, and threw it into a desk drawer. “No one can know where you are or that you were even planning to leave. We have to go now. If everything goes as planned, you’ll be back in a few days.”

  What could Jackson do but follow him out the door and down the hall? His lifetime allegiance to duty and his deep desire to see these undesirables go down fueled his determination to follow orders. He could only pray that Chas would forgive him. He couldn’t even imagine what she might think if he didn’t call. He hoped it would be over quickly.

  * * * * *

  Chas only waited about ten minutes past the time that Jackson usually called before she tried to call him. She only got voice mail, both at home and on his cell phone. She left messages, then waited. An hour passed; then two. She prayed and told herself there could be all kinds of reasons why someone in the FBI wasn’t reachable by phone. But when she was still awake hours later and he hadn’t called, her mind had gone wild with imagining things that might have happened to him. She dozed on and off throughout the night, but never got any good sleep. All through the following day she kept trying to call, and felt more frantic every hour. She wondered more than once if this was his way of letting her know that it was over, but he’d told her he would never do that to her, and she believed him. Something was wrong and she knew it. By evening she had worked herself into such a frenzy that Polly and Charlotte had to talk a long time to get her to calm down. They convinced her that no phone call didn’t necessarily mean something was wrong; maybe it just meant that he had gone undercover or something. She liked that idea. But she wasn’t sure what to think when Polly said, “If he had died, the FBI would surely check the numbers on his cell phone, or something, and call you. They would surely call his mother.”

  Chas nearly called Melva, but didn’t want to worry her. Jackson only called his mother once a week. Until that time came, she thought it best to keep the concern to herself. But that night she had to take something to help her sleep. She couldn’t function without sleep, and she couldn’t sleep wondering what was happening. Her recent feelings of paranoia on his behalf didn’t help any. In her heart, she wondered if she would ever see him again.