Serendipity

by Fern Michaels

  “Roast pork, potatoes, carrots, and salad. Dad made it earlier and it’s warming in the oven. He always cooked early. I’m telling you, he had this routine that wasn’t to be believed. I like my dad.”

  “I guess this . . . accident wasn’t for nothing, then. God does work in mysterious ways. You and your father have made peace and actually like one another. I’m sorry for Pete, for myself too, but I’m happy it worked out for you, Ross. I mean that.”

  “I know you do, Jory. Dinner’s in the kitchen. You’ll have to walk out there. Can you manage?”

  “You bet. By the time you set the table and put the food out, I’ll be there. I’m really hungry. Is Jasper a good cook?”

  Ross laughed. “No. I think it’s because he cooked so early in the day and then warmed it for hours. Usually everything is dry. I told him it was good, though. He preened like a peacock.”

  As she was finishing her meal, Jory said, “If you drink enough wine it doesn’t seem dry at all.” In fact, she didn’t care what it tasted like as long as she didn’t have to stand over the stove and cook it. Soup and sandwiches would have to suffice from now until she was back to normal. If she was ever back to normal.

  Jory sat back, content for the moment as Ross prepared to leave the table. “This might be a good time, Ross, for you to tell me what else you did for me around here.”

  “Well,” he said, as he cleared, “you really needed the roof fixed. Even my father said so, and he knows diddly about things like that. I know less. We shored up the back porch, it was sagging on one end. There’s a new floor on it too. My father was afraid the dogs might slip through. Something like that. It doesn’t matter.” He grinned. “We’ll add it all to your monthly bill.”

  He was half kidding, but Jory wasn’t when she said, “When do my payments start?”

  “Start?” Ross said stupidly.

  “Yes, when do I start to pay you back? Do I owe for January and December, or do I start in February? And how much interest are you charging?”

  “Ah, February is good. I haven’t had much time to . . . you know, make it legal and all. How does twenty dollars a year sound for interest?”

  “That’s robbery! Are you trying to take advantage of me? Ten!”

  “Deal!” Ross said as he finished clearing the table. “Coffee by the fire okay? I’ll bring it in.”

  Minutes later they were both settled in the living room. “This is nice,” Jory said. “I love sitting in front of the fire. I thought a lot about it when I was in the hospital. It was nice of you to stop every day and let me know how everything was going. I guess your father had his hands full. Have you made peace with your mother?”

  “Nope. My father pointed out something to me so I could point it out to you. My mother has not paid December’s or January’s rent. You can’t let her get away with that, Jory.”

  “What do you propose I do, Ross? Go down and beat it out of her? I can’t do that to your mother. Maybe she forgot.”

  “My mother never forgets anything, except maybe her family. When I get Woo settled, I’m going to look into that. I haven’t had time for anything but this case of Woo’s. He worked so hard on it, I couldn’t let him down. Sic a lawyer on her or a collection agency. She’s digging in. Better yet, evict her!”

  “Ross, she’s your mother. I’ll think about it. I won’t let her get away with it. Who took down the tree?”

  “My father. Your presents are upstairs in the bedroom. We bought a few things and my father wrapped them. They looked nice under the tree. We took some pictures. They’re in your room. Are you going to sleep upstairs or down here on the sofa?”

  “I can’t manage steps yet. The couch will be fine.”

  “I can carry you up. You might want to sleep in your own bed. You know, to prove you’re really home. There’s plenty of hot water. If you want to take a shower, I’ll take you up. You can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.” He inched closer to feel her arm.

  “A hundred five. I lost ten pounds.” She leaned against his arm, liking the feel of his heavy sweater. He smelled good. She said so.

  Ross smiled. “You smell like antiseptic and bandages. Don’t get me wrong,” he said hastily, “I like that . . . fluffy smell you had on when I was here last.”

  Jory snorted. “That was soap. More likely it was Prell shampoo. I don’t waste my money on perfume,” she said coolly.

  “You should. Men like perfume. I like perfume.”

  “Then why didn’t you buy me some and add it to my thirty-year bill?” Jory snapped.

  “Actually, I did buy you some. It’s gift-wrapped in your room. It smelled good.”

  “What’s it called?”

  Ross laughed. “My Sin.”

  “What are you going to do, Ross?”

  “You mean about a job?” he said, putting his arm over the back of the couch. “I’m going to open my own office. Hopefully, Woo will be a partner. I mentioned it three different times, but he didn’t express any enthusiasm.”

  “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t pressure him if I were you.” Was that Ross’s arm on her shoulder? Of course it was, she could feel the nubby material of his sweater on the back of her neck. She was too tired to get herself riled up. Too tired to protest. An arm around her shoulder didn’t have to mean anything. No, she thought—Ross Landers’s arm meant something. Her shoulders stiffened.

  Ross’s fingers toyed with a tendril of hair next to her ear. She shivered, but she didn’t move or tell him to stop. “I won’t pressure him,” Ross said. “Woo has to make up his own mind. Do you know what I want to do right now?”

  “Are you going to spoil this, Ross? I’m not in any . . . 1 don’t . . . you can’t take advantage . . .”

  “Whoa, back up here. You don’t even know what I was going to say. This may surprise you, but I was going to ask you if you wanted me to make some popcorn.”

  Jory burst out laughing. He kissed her then, a sweet, wonderful kiss of promise. Flustered with the intimacy she’d been avoiding, Jory murmured, “Popcorn sounds good.”

  When he left, she pretended to sleep, snuggling into the pillows, her face flushed, her nerves twitching. She wondered if Ross would be disappointed when he returned with the popcorn. What would he do? Would he stay in the living room or would he go upstairs? She burrowed deeper into the pillows, the dogs alongside her. How good they felt, how warm and comforting.

  She heard him moving about, setting the bowl down on the table, carrying the coffee cups to the kitchen, steps coming back, the poker being taken from the rack, another log added, the fire screen being fitted into place, the snick of the light switches being turned off. And then nothing. She lay still, afraid to open her eyes. Where was he? Was he watching her? She felt a blanket placed over her huddled form. The added warmth felt good. The light touch of his lips on her cheek made her want to cry out, to reach for him.

  “Good night, Jory, sleep well,” Ross whispered.

  She heard the bedroom door close at the top of the stairs. Her eyes snapped open. The fire was the only light in the room, the flames dancing and stretching upward. It all looked so normal, so peaceful. Why was she feeling this inward tension, this unbearable heat rush coursing through her body? You were that close to doing something you promised would never happen, she told herself.

  Ross was so different, so . . . helpful and caring. What would she have done without him and Jasper? Everyone needed someone, and she was no exception. Sometimes, according to the doctors and nurses at the hospital, you had to have what they called a backup, someone to help smooth the way in tight spots. Ross had certainly done that. She had new windows, a new roof, ramps, a new porch, all thanks to her ex-husband. Maybe she was wrong about Ross. Maybe if she wanted to participate, things could change course. If. The kiss had been expected yet unexpected. What she hadn’t expected was to like it, but she had.

  Now she was obligated to both Ross and Jasper. She owed money to Ross that would take a lifetime to pay back. She o
wed Jasper her job. She swore again under her breath. Some job. If Jasper Landers could do it cold, anyone could do it. She’d thought it special, something only she could do well, but Jasper did it equally well, so well that no one seemed to know the difference. If anything, the mail was heavier since he’d taken over.

  Is this what I want? she asked herself. A dead-end job giving advice to people who, if they used common sense, could figure out their own problems? Did she want to do this for the rest of her life? God, no. For now, however, it was what it was: a job.

  But would anyone else hire a cripple? Not likely. Personnel directors, employers, didn’t like deformities. She’d just read that recently in a slick magazine someone had left in the hospital. If she remained in her present condition, this job was ideal; she could continue to work at home and no one would ever see her. No one at the food market would care if she limped. The dogs didn’t care. She’d make herself get used to the stares of other people. She’d become reclusive and never marry. Who in their right mind would marry a cripple? She’d end up being an old maid living with four dogs in a house empty of love. She’d be writing Auntie Ann until she was ninety. She’d become Auntie Ann, a little old lady with a gray topknot, spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose.

  Ross was being kind to her when he kissed her. Trying her out, checking to see if she . . . what? Worked, was all in one piece? Emotionally and physically.

  Pity. There it was, the hateful word she’d thought about for weeks but was afraid to say aloud.

  It wasn’t fair. Pete was such an exuberant, viable person, so full of life, so full of feeling and compassion. What would happen to him? Would Ross be able to work his magic for Pete, to make him come out of the depression she knew he was feeling? It wasn’t fair that just as she was getting her life in order, just as she was divorced, that this should happen to her. Why was it fair for Ross, who had everything handed to him, to walk away unscathed? Where was the justice? Where was the fairness? Why? Maybe she was being punished. For what, past sins? Why did God do this to her and Pete? Maybe she should go to church, pray more, try to be a better person. Maybe she wasn’t measuring up in God’s eyes. When things went awry, people always turned to prayer, to God. After the fact. She’d never been one of those people who bargained with God: do this for me and I swear I’ll never do this or that. I’ll be good, toe the line, never make waves. I’ll pray and donate to the church, just do this one little thing for me and I’ll never ask for anything else. Until the next time. No, she hadn’t been one of those people. She’d taken all life’s lumps, tried to be a good person, thanked him when things worked out. She said her “God blesses” at night. Well, most nights.

  What is it you want, Marjory Ryan? she asked herself.

  To be contented and happy, and not necessarily in that order. To look forward to waking up with a smile on my face because the new day will be whatever I make it. I want a bunch of kids like the Reynoldses have, with pets and the house in disarray, from time to time. I want friends who stop by for a cup of coffee, and a husband who loves me unconditionally. I want to fight with him, express my opinions, fight some more, and then make up with both sides satisfied with whatever resolution we come up with. I don’t care about having a lot of money or a fancy car. Please, God, give me someone to love, someone who will love me back, and I’ll do the rest. If you can’t see your way clear right now, will you take it under advisement?

  Before she fell asleep, Jory made a pact with herself. She would give the therapy sessions every ounce of energy and courage she could muster. If she failed and remained a cripple, then it was meant to be. Only a fool believed fate and destiny could be tampered with. And five years ago she stopped being a fool.

  January came to a close with above-normal temperatures. The mountains of snow melted to make way for February, when Pennsylvania’s famous groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, didn’t see his shadow. Valentine’s Day passed as just another day for Jory, as did Washington’s birthday. The following morning Ross carried his two suitcases down the stairs and placed them by the front door. They were the first things Jory saw when she brought the dogs in from their morning walk.

  “Time to say good-bye, Jory. I am so very proud of you. I knew you could do it. Another month and you’ll be good as new.” It was all true. He was proud of her, and she had distinguished herself with the intensive therapy and the endless, grueling hours she put in on her own. Once or twice he’d thought demons were on her back, forcing her to push herself to the limit. He pretended not to see the tears in her eyes when he hugged her. “If you need me, just give me a call. I’ll be in my new office waiting for my new partner to join me, whenever that might be. At which point,” Ross said lightly, “we will both wait for new clients to knock on our door. I hope everything works out the way you want it to, Jory.”

  He was going. Really going. She’d gotten used to him, had even paraded around with her hair in curlers and in her old fuzzy robe. The last few weeks they’d laughed, talked, shared confidences, and held hands. And now he was walking out of her life. She had to say something. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say too. They both spoke at the same time. She said, “I’m going to miss you.”

  He said, “I’m going to miss these guys.”

  Damn, what had she expected? Hearts and flowers of course. “I think they’re going to miss you too. They went absolutely wild when Jasper came out last week. If you come back, they’ll give you the same kind of greeting. They say dogs never forget a kindness done to them, and you have been more than kind. I think they know you’re going. Good luck with your new office, Ross. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until Pete gets here?”

  “I’m sure. Speaking for myself, it’s killing me that I can’t be here to help him, but I know Woo and how proud he is. He won’t want me to see him struggling. You see, he has all this pride. If he slips and falls, he’ll make it personal. You’ll be able to help more than I ever could because you’ve gone through it. About all I’m good for is picking up the pieces and trying to glue them together. My lot in life,” he said sadly.

  “Ross,” Jory said, her eyes welling, “I couldn’t have done it without you. I will be eternally grateful.” Damn, she wasn’t going to cry, was she?

  “Eternal means something lasts forever,” he replied. “Wrong choice of words, eh?” He bent down to pick up his bags. “I do love you. I played by your rules and now the game is over. Take care of Woo for me. He’s all I have left to care about these days.”

  “Ross, I . . .” But she was talking to the door. The dogs circled her feet, growling softly. Growling at her. She threw her hands in the air, her eyes fire-bright. “Don’t you start!” she yelled at the dogs. “So he left, so what! It’s not the end of the world.” Yes it is. For you it is. He walked out of your life. Just the way he did a long time ago. Over with. Finished. You don’t get a third chance. If she wasn’t crying, she would have laughed when the four dogs scurried to the corner to bury their heads in their paws.

  Jory sat down on the couch with a thump, realizing for the first time how she looked in the morning. Like a bedraggled vagabond. Her mind raced, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Ross had redeemed himself. He’d stepped in, taken charge so effortlessly it seemed natural for him to continue taking care of things. Her comfort, her health, her financial problems, her dogs. All while he was trying to set up his own office, taking care of hers and Pete’s lawsuits, dealing with his new affection and respect for his father, and dealing with the hatred he had for his mother. He’d done it all and hadn’t complained once. He’d come into her life and made it a much better one. He’d taught her to deal with adversity on a gut level, taught her about compromise, taught her how to laugh again, taught her about herself. He’d shown her his vulnerability, trusting her, asking for nothing. And now he was gone.

  I really am going to miss him, Jory thought. I got to know Ross, really like him as a person, and now he’s out of my life. That’s what I said I
wanted, and now that he’s given me my freedom, I’m not sure it’s what I want. Her silent, running conversation ground to a halt. She snapped her fingers twice. The dogs scurried to the corner for their respective leashes.

  Ross was out of her life and getting on with his own life.

  “It’s just us now,” she said to the dogs, “but I couldn’t have done it without him. I really am going to miss him,” she said softly.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ross stood on the sidewalk and stared at his new storefront office. The brass lettering on the door said, LANDERS AND WOOJALESKY, and underneath, in smaller letters, Family Law. They were going to be lucky if they made the rent every month. It was Woo who said family law paid off in service or chickens and produce, and once in a while, money, but it was the big man’s dream. Helping families who couldn’t pay their bills or had to pay in monthly installments meant they’d both be making a commitment to become part of the community, to do their best for those who needed their services.

  Woo had agreed, under pressure, to form the partnership, saying his half of the start-up costs would have to come out of his accident settlement. He’d insisted on only one thing: no bills to clients, saying people knew when they owed money and they didn’t need a bill to prove it. Ross thought it a naive way of doing business, even stupid, but he’d agreed to test it for one year. If they were in the red at the end of the first year, they’d resort to semiannual billing, and if that didn’t work, then quarterly billing. They hadn’t gotten to the monthly part and probably never would. Basically, Ross thought, they would be doing pro bono work.

  Ross fit the key into the lock. Time to begin this new part of his life. Everything smelled new and unused. The furnishings were not just inexpensive, they were cheap. Woo said the kind of clients they’d be dealing with would be intimidated by costly furnishings, so the carpet was flat as opposed to nubby, the chairs a mixture of vinyl and leather, with a lot of wood trim. The desks were bought at an auction, sanded down, and restained. The bookshelves were made from pine, the shelves reinforced to hold heavy law books. There were only six comfortable chairs in the five-room suite: two client chairs in Woo’s office, two in his, plus his chair and Woo’s. Woo’s was custom-made, but the big man didn’t know that. Ross had told Woo he’d been lucky to find an oversize chair belonging to a retired judge at an estate auction. He wondered if Woo would notice the doorways were extra wide to accommodate a wheelchair. Things were looking good, though, and if Woo persevered and prevailed the way Jory had, he might not need the chair.