by Judy Baer
“I’ve been reading about juvenile arthritis. It sounds as if treatment has improved.”
“Dramatically.” He gestured for me to sit down on one end of the couch while he took the other. “I should be grateful that they can prevent JA from being as crippling as it once was. My wife’s uncle suffered from the same disease and his joints became so gnarled that it hurt to look at him. He didn’t complain though. Maybe that’s where Ben gets his bravery.”
“When Ben isn’t doing well, you really wish his mother was here, don’t you?”
“Is it so obvious?”
“No, but it is logical. Why would you want to do this alone?”
Jack picked up a sliver-framed photo from the table beside the couch, a picture of Ben as a toddler being held by a smiling woman. She was slender, with long hair the color of Ben’s and beautiful in a natural, fresh-scrubbed way. Playfulness sparkled in her eyes. “I’ve had the best, Quinn.” His thoughts drifted off and when he spoke again it was more to himself than to me. “There is no reason in the world that I would marry again. Not after Emily.”
“I can see that.”
He seemed surprised that I didn’t try to coax him out of his glum state. “You feel that part of your life, your God-ordained partnership, ended. You believe there’s no way to replace it, so you don’t plan to try.”
He looked relieved to be understood. “And here I was, thinking everyone thought I was some kind of tough guy.”
“I’d feel the same way if I were in your shoes. For a while, at least.”
“For a while?” Jack frowned, disturbed at the idea of relinquishing any of his pain.
“Eventually I believe I’d realize that if someone loved me that much he wouldn’t want me to be miserable forever.”
I hurried on before Jack could respond. “I wouldn’t want anyone to tell me to snap out of it or that I’d grieved two years already so it was time to move on. Grief takes the time it takes and no one should put it on a schedule.”
He clasped his hands in front of him. “Grief and Loss class on Monday, cry on Tuesday and smile the rest of the week so your friends don’t feel guilty about going on with their lives, you mean?”
“Is that what happened to you?”
“In a sense.” He smiled weakly. “I’ve had to practically beat off people at work who wanted to set me up on blind dates. It seems everyone has a single sister or cousin these days.”
For a man like Jack? I’ll bet they do!
“I appreciate your understanding, Quinn. By not pushing me, you allow me freedom to be myself.”
“From all I’ve seen and heard, that self is pretty amazing. Don’t force another person’s timetable onto yourself.”
“Quinn?” His voice reminded me of Ben’s. “Will you be my teacher, too? You’re very smart. I could learn a thing or two from you.”
Inexplicably I wanted to brush back the lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes and made him look so much like his son.
I went home with strangely mixed emotions. In Jack Harmon I’d met a man who, under very different circumstances, could be my soul mate. Unfortunately, he is as inaccessible as the sun over my head. I understand Maggie and her disappointments in a whole new way. Sometimes in life there is no justice.
Chapter Eighteen
Maggie’s door was open when I got home. Dash was asleep on her bed and she was at the computer, staring at a screen. I bent over her shoulder to see what she was studying and unwelcome words from a Web site popped out at me.
Imagine breaking out of your ugly cocoon! Escape those beauty trouble spots that prevent you from becoming all you can be. That’s what our newest theme show can do for you. Unleash the beauty now hidden by correctable flaws. Experience the best in dental, medical and cosmetic breakthroughs, put your hair in the hands of well-known professionals and your wardrobe into the expert care of dressers to the stars. Learn about the inner you. Show your real face to the world.
I skipped to the bottom of the page. “Interviews and auditions will be held…”
“Talk about something that defeats its whole purpose! Making people feel good about themselves for a minute and then pitting them against each other in a beauty contest that will make them insecure again. Have you ever heard anything so silly?”
Maggie remained silent.
“You can see now why I’m not having anything to do with it. If you don’t feel good about yourself going in, makeup and a new hairdo aren’t going to fix anything. Of course, makeup companies would go broke if they depended on me for sales.”
“I don’t blame you, Quinn. I understand why you wouldn’t want to be the hostess of this show.” Maggie’s voice was so soft and sure that I felt a rush of relief.
“You do? Good. I thought for a moment you might want to apply for the job.”
Maggie turned her typing chair away from the computer and stared at me incredulously. “Me? Don’t be silly. I’d never get a job like that. It takes someone who looks like you. Quinn, I want to be a contestant.”
Her face brightened with pathetic hope. “It’s my chance, don’t you see? I could get rid of the bump in my nose and have some fat liposuctioned from my thighs. It would make all the difference in both my modeling career and personal life.”
Bump in her nose? Fat on her thighs? That made as much sense as announcing she was going to have fur waxed off her back. She has no bumps, no fat and no fur.
“You can’t, Maggie. They’re looking for people who have a cocoon to emerge from. You are already a butterfly.”
I pushed back the thought of smarmy Frank jumping for joy at the chance to “ugly-up” Maggie with ill-fitting clothes and poor hair and makeup and then, by restoring her to normal, turning her into a beauty. I wouldn’t put it past him. He’d do it for ratings. Eddie was aboveboard but Frank…I wouldn’t put much past him.
Maggie looked at me with a serene smile at the corners of her lips. “Too late. I already have. I just got the e-mail. I’m supposed to be at the hotel at ten tomorrow for an interview.”
“I’m going to throw up.” After Maggie had left for her interview, Pete sat in my kitchen holding his head in his hands as Flash frantically licked Pete’s arm, trying to comfort him.
Finally I took pity on Flash and tempted him into the other room with a doggy treat so that he would settle down and watch The Andy Griffith Show with Dash.
“There is no use talking to her anymore, anyway,” I said when I returned. “She’s turned a deaf ear to us.”
“My wonderful idea for you is now an official disaster,” Pete muttered morosely to himself. “Why did I ever tell you anything about this television show?”
“Beats me.” I patted him on the back. “It isn’t your fault. You believed it would be good for me. We couldn’t have predicted that Maggie would get it into her head to be a contestant any more than we could have foreseen her breakup with Randy or the lost jobs. It’s crazy, Pete, and you can’t predict crazy.”
“I’m going to start photographing flowers and birds,” he announced resolutely. “No more models. No more human beings. I’m shooting only stuff that is content the way it is—mountains, deer and geraniums. I want nothing more to do with people who think that if they are prettier, thinner, thicker, wider, narrower, taller or shorter, life would be better for them. No more models—just horses, fence posts, lakes and a soup can or two thrown in for good measure.”
“Andy Warhol already used that idea. Besides, you are too good at what you do to give it up. You can’t help it that Maggie refuses to listen to us.”
“I tried to suggest that the length to which she is going and the importance she’s placing on her own looks are prideful and vain. She’s fixated,” Pete concluded. “Doesn’t it say somewhere that obsession with beauty comes dangerously close to idolatry?”
“Nothing fazes her. She’s got a one-track mind and that track leads straight to Chrysalis.”
“At least we can count on Eddie to send her home again
,” Pete said. “He’s a straight shooter.”
“Straight shooter or not, I wouldn’t depend on that. Frank might see Maggie as an opportunity to make the show more interesting.”
“Nah, even Frank wouldn’t do that.” Worry creased Pete’s expressive face. “Would he?”
“If he does, Maggie’s going to need protection. Frank would happily carve Maggie up and put her back together backward for ratings.”
“I’m going to call him,” Pete announced, and headed for the phone.
It seemed like forever until he returned to the kitchen.
“Did you talk to him?” I pounced on Pete when he returned to the room.
“Eddie wasn’t there. He’s gone until tomorrow.”
“Who were you talking to? I cleaned three cupboards while you were in the other room.”
Pete flushed until he looked like he’d had a nasty experience in a faulty tanning bed.
“Kristy answered the phone. We talked awhile, that’s all.”
“Forty-five minutes.”
“We have a lot to catch up on.”
“You still have feelings for her.”
He glared at me venomously. “Quinn, you know absolutely nothing about this.”
“Of course I do. I know that when you try to keep something from me, the tip of your nose turns pink. It’s been that way ever since we were kids. It’s cherry colored right now so this must be a biggie.”
“I thought you were annoying as a child but you are much worse now.” Pete turned away. “It’s amazing. The older you get, the more maddening you get. I certainly don’t want to live next to you in the nursing home.”
“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”
I knew by the way his neck flushed and his head drooped forward that the answer was yes.
“And she doesn’t return those feelings.”
He turned around and I saw how miserable he was.
“I made a mistake when I broke up with Kristy. Eddie says she never married because of me, but she’s obviously not interested now.”
To my surprise, Pete looked me straight in the eye and said, “If that kind of relationship ever comes along for you, Quinn, don’t blow it like I did.”
Chapter Nineteen
I stood at the front door of Jack’s house but hesitated to ring the bell. I wasn’t due here for another hour but couldn’t go home because Maggie was there. I’ve been praying for patience and wisdom to deal with her but am still feeling pretty short in both departments. Going to Pete’s is no better. He is busy reproaching himself for this ridiculous situation and mooning over Kristy. It’s depressing there, too.
When I pushed the bell and no one answered, I turned back toward my car. They were out. I would do lesson plans until they returned.
I was halfway down the sidewalk when the front door opened. Jack was well turned out and elegant in a good-fitting suit and a tie that probably cost more than my entire outfit. He glanced at his watch and then at me.
“I’m sorry. I thought you weren’t going to be here for an hour yet. I’ll go get Ben.”
“I’m early. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
“Then you must be in exactly the right place. Come in.”
“It’s silly,” I said as I moved toward the dining-room table where Ben and I do our lessons, “but I needed a little sanity today and this seemed like a good place to come and find it.” I glanced around. “Is Ben sleeping?”
“No. He’s at Nathan’s house. I just got home from the office. They wanted to do their homework together. I took it as a sign that Ben’s feeling better so I let him go.”
“Don’t pick him up yet. I’ve got lesson plans to complete for next week and I can review what we’re going to cover today.”
Without warning, Jack’s long, lean fingers engulfed mine. “Leave the books. I’d like some adult conversation for a change.”
I stepped forward, caught my foot on an area rug and pitched clumsily into his arms. With my nose buried in the front of his pristine shirt, I breathed in the heady fragrances of soap and cologne. Now not only were my feet not working, my head was also spinning. My heart did a two-step in my chest.
“Are you okay?” He set me upright and peered into my face. His eyes, so close to mine, were alive with concern and amusement. His lashes were long and dusky and I had the wild notion to touch them to see if they were real. I’ve been a model much too long, I reminded myself, living in a world where fake eyelashes are the norm.
And his lips…they were dangerous to think about in the mood I was in.
“I tripped.”
“You have to be more careful.” He reached to gently wipe a strand of hair from my eyes. His touch was gossamer against my skin. “Neither Ben nor I want you injured.”
He was completely unaware of the turmoil he set up inside me. “You are too important to us.” As we sat together on the couch, he rubbed my arm with the back of his hand.
My mind went to a place where Jack and I could share moments such as these as often as we pleased. It was a dangerous place to tread. And a hopeless one.
“Want to tell me about it?” He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.
“What makes you think I have something to tell?”
“You arrived on my doorstep early and were willing to sit in your car rather than leave. You are so distracted that you fell flat on your face at my feet. It’s out of character for you, Quinn.”
“Thank you for your observations, Sherlock. I’ll take them into consideration.”
“I’m a good listener,” he offered.
“I’ll bet you are.”
“Want to try me?” Before I realized what he was about to do, he put his arm around me and tucked me into the curve of his body. I felt the muscles of his chest and was engulfed again in the scents of aftershave and soap. Involuntarily, I leaned into his comforting strength. It felt like home.
“My roommate is losing her mind, her grip on reality and maybe even her faith. She’s had some big disappointments lately and she isn’t thinking rationally. Besides that, she thinks she’s getting too over-the-hill for her career. Our friend Pete blames himself for a harebrained idea she came up with this week and he’s feeling guilty.”
The story spilled out of me like water gushing from a hydrant, but when I was done I felt the load lift. Sharing it had brought it to the light of day where the sun could evaporate the ache. “I feel sick about the whole thing and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
He held me near him and I had no will to resist. “You are a uniquely compassionate woman. It’s difficult to watch people you love be in pain. No one knows that that better than I.”
His wife. His son.
I dug in my pocket for a tissue and blew my nose. “I’m sorry for whining. After what you’ve been through…”
He tipped my chin upward, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Hurt is hurt, Quinn. Don’t discount what’s going on in your life because it’s not what happened in mine.”
I felt more than heard him sigh.
I fought the impulse to caress his cheek and to stroke away the tight muscle in his jaw. “Is something wrong with Ben?” I remained very still, feeling that if I moved, this moment of confidence would be broken.
“No, not Ben.” His faint smile turned crooked and faded. “Oddly enough, it’s me. Since we’re telling tales on ourselves, may I share something with you?”
My hand tightened over his in telegraphed permission.
“My wife has been gone over two years. When Emily died, friends, relatives and neighbors poured through this house. I found food in my refrigerator, fresh sheets on the bed, fruit baskets on the counters until it looked like we ran an orchard. Mail came by the sack.
“On the first anniversary of her passing a few people came by to see if I wanted a diversion or company. I got letters from family and someone sent Ben and I tickets to a ball game. Something to divert us on the day his mother died, I supp
ose. Oddly, no one seemed to want to talk about Emily. Our family and friends have now moved beyond their loss and feel Ben and I should, too.”
“Have you?” I asked gently, already sure of the answer.
He squirmed, making me slip toward him on the sofa. I made no attempt to move away. Even if I’d wanted to, my body was too content beside his.
He didn’t answer my question directly. “Ben’s doing well. A counselor has helped him a great deal. He talks to his grandparents about it and to me. He loves his mother but accepts that she’s no longer here. He’s moved on and I haven’t.” He paused, genuinely flummoxed that it was he who was not the high achiever, the head of the pack.
“Have you got anyone to talk to? Someone who would just listen?”
“Someone who hasn’t tried to fix me in the process? Not really.” His expression softened. “No, Quinn, I don’t believe I do know anyone who is willing to just listen.”
“I’m a good listener too.”
His lips tipped in a smile and he gave me an appreciative hug that didn’t last nearly long enough. “It might be an onerous job to take on.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
When he spoke, he said something I had not expected. “I’ve met a lot of beautiful women since my wife died.”
He saw the startled expression on my face and laughed. “Sympathy casseroles came pouring into the house. It seemed every single woman I’d ever known turned up on the doorstep with food and a listening ear.”
Ouch. A new handsome and single guy in town? Is that what had motivated them?
“Let’s just say I made it my policy not to encourage anyone to think there was anything to be had from me other than appreciation, but it did make me skittish.”
“I’m sure.”
“I got in the habit of keeping everyone at arm’s length,” he admitted thoughtfully, “and until I met you, it didn’t seem like much of a problem.”
“Oh?” My best policy was going to be silence. I could tell that already.