“What if she doesn’t miss me?” Duncan asked quietly.
“She will. Believe me, despite all the crappy things you’ve done lately.” Another scowl from Duncan. “If this girl is half as sharp as you seem to think she is, she’ll realize how lucky she was to find you. All you need to do is let her.”
Was Duncan losing his mind or was Kevin actually making sense? He didn’t think he could bear the agony of waiting for Jessie to contact him, but maybe Kevin did have a point. He’d been planning on waiting until things were more settled in his life anyway, so maybe he would try and do as Kevin instructed. At this point it certainly couldn’t hurt.
Chapter 27
He didn’t call. No outrageous gifts arrived. Theresa didn’t show up on his behalf to plead his case. It was like their relationship, or what passed for their relationship, had never existed. Jessie went about her days, trying to pretend like she didn’t care, but she did. Once she calmed down a bit, she realized just how much she missed him. It had seemed so easy to say good-bye, but actually staying away from him was just about impossible. Her heart did the cha-cha every time the phone rang.
When she re-opened Forgotten Treasures a few days later, she began sticking her head out from whatever task she was performing whenever the bell over the door signaled that someone had entered. But it was never Duncan. He had disappeared as effectively as Diego had.
She kept phoning him—well, almost phoning him. Caller ID made it impossible to do the infamous call and hang-up to hear his voice, so she just dialed the first six numbers and agonized over pressing the last number. Her bottom lip clenched tightly between her teeth, she would caress that final button, daring herself to follow through, but her pride wouldn’t let her do it, no matter how much she wanted to hear Duncan’s explanation.
She knew it was wrong to still want him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She wanted to hear his side, have it make perfect sense, and live happily ever after. Maybe her image of a perfect fairy tale prince was unrealistic. Duncan certainly wasn’t what she’d imagined her Mr. Right to be, but despite everything she knew, she still believed that he was decent, and gentle, and kind. Perfection might just be too much to ask.
Everything just seemed better when he was around. In his presence she felt alive and really happy for the first time since her parents had passed away. Thinking of them, she couldn’t help wondering how they would feel about Duncan. No matter how hard she tried to imagine it, she couldn’t see them disapproving of Duncan. There was something inherently good about him. Maybe perfect for her was more realistic than actual perfection. If he would just call or show up, she would tell him how she felt. She would stop trying to make excuses about why it would never work between them. She would be fearless and take a chance on love. All he had to do was let her know in some small way that he still cared, just a little bit, and she would be his forever. Unfortunately, he wasn’t cooperating.
Embarrassed to be resorting to stalking measures, yesterday, she’d left in the middle of the workday to stroll casually by his apartment building. A coincidental meeting was just as good as a phone call, wasn’t it? She knew he was at work, but that didn’t stop her breathing from becoming irregular each time she saw a tall, dark-haired man walking in the section of Stanley Park closest to his building. Once, she’d thought she’d seen someone who resembled Diego, but when the man got close enough for Jessie to get a good look at him, she realized that she was imagining things. Diego was half a head taller and forty pounds lighter than the jogger she’d ducked behind a tree to avoid.
With Diego in mind, Clay had begun teaching Jessie some basic self-defense maneuvers. As Clay put it, “Being the only Bette, Babs, and Liza fan growing up in Moose Jaw, Karate had been a necessary life skill.” So, after hours and between customers for the past few days, he’d shown her how to escape certain holds and cause enough damage to an attacker to give her time to scurry away and find help. Jessie fervently hoped that she would never encounter Diego again, but if she did, she didn’t want to be helpless like she was the last time. Besides, she enjoyed the lessons. Not only was Clay a great teacher, it gave her something else to think about besides Duncan.
Four days after Jessie’s second unexpected departure from Duncan’s apartment, Jessie and Clay were standing close together in the middle of the store. Clay was behind Jessie, with one arm wrapped tightly around her waist and the other around her neck. Despite his slight build, he had an unholy wiry strength and agility that made him a formidable opponent. He looked down at Jessie’s from his slight height advantage and noted that she was wearing some tall, dark brown suede boots under her long-sleeved, button-down, denim dress that would work well if she ever was attacked. Certainly better than the sneakers she usually wore.
“Okay,” Clay whispered in her ear, trying to sound menacing, “now pretend I’m a depraved psycho.” He tightened his hold on her neck, and attempted to lift her off her feet.
“That’s really not all that hard to imagine,” Jessie rasped over his arm. Without warning, she raised her right foot and brought it smartly down on Clay’s Gucci-covered instep, while elbowing him hard in the solar plexus. He let out an “oof,” and loosened his hold on her, just as she was getting ready to drive the palm of one hand up toward his nose.
Dodging out of harm’s way with surprisingly nimble reflexes, Clay rubbed his chest and shook his head, smiling at her in wonder. “Wow, that was great. I may need hospitalization. You are definitely getting a grip on the whole ass-preserving, self-defense concept. I would definitely not want to meet you in a dark alley.”
Jessie beamed back at him. “I think I got it. Just stick to the vulnerable areas and run, right? Or stick around and kick some serious pervert butt.”
He shook a chastising finger at her. “You got it, but don’t get too cocky. You’re not quite in Buffy’s league yet.”
The phone rang, and Jessie scrambled to answer it before Clay could reach it. Noticing how eagerly she reacted every time the phone rang, he’d been racing her to answer it, just to be annoying. This time, Jessie snatched it up first and grinned triumphantly at Clay as she put the handset to her ear. Clay stuck out his tongue, but didn’t move back to his pile of invoices. Instead, he watched the expressions flit across Jessie’s animated face.
“Hello,” she said hopefully, completely forgetting to identify the store.
“Jessie?” Duncan asked.
Jessie gave Clay the thumbs up and did a happy little jig. “Hi, Duncan. How are you?” She asked eagerly. She knew she should be cool and indifferent, but she was just so happy to hear from him.
“Not good,” he said. “Thanks to you.” His voice was hostile and tight with anger.
“What do you mean?” She asked, warily, turning away to avoid Clay’s curious gaze. Why would Duncan be calling her four days after their fight and sound angry with her? It didn’t make sense when he was the one who’d lied.
“You are some kind of piece of work, you know that?” Duncan said bitterly. “Spouting on about honesty and then betraying me like this. I seem to have a real taste for vindictive women.”
He sounded like he hated her. What could have happened to make him speak to her like this? “Duncan, I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Right. You just have to play the innocent victim, don’t you? Even though we both know your days of innocence are way over now.”
Jessie closed her eye against the pain in his tone. He was obviously hurting a lot if he’d talk about taking her virginity in that mocking tone. He’d been so considerate and gentle when it had happened. Now, he sounded like the whole thing was some kind of cruel joke. Gritting her teeth against her impulse to cry, she said, “Just tell me what you think I’ve done.”
His voice lowered to a deep, angry rumble. “I’m talking about you tracking down my grandmother and telling her exactly where Theresa is. I’m talking about you being so angry at me for being dishonest that you went behind my back and did
something that will not only hurt me, but my sister as well.”
Jessie leaned against the counter, too surprised at his accusation to respond for a moment. “Duncan, that’s not true. I would never do that.”
“Then why did Theresa just call me in tears from her bedroom twenty minutes ago because that woman showed up at my apartment this afternoon, huh? Demanding that Theresa pack her bags, threatening to press kidnapping charges against me if she doesn’t get on a plane this afternoon. I’m on my way home right now to try and straighten things out.”
“Oh my God, Duncan. I’m so sorry this is happening. But I swear, I didn’t call your grandmother. You must know that.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind, but unlike you, I thought I owed you the opportunity to explain yourself,” he said self-righteously.
Jessie nearly rolled her eyes. “I don’t have anything to explain because I didn’t do it.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that it’s just a coincidence that my grandmother showed up a few days after you stomped out of my apartment over this same issue?” He asked sarcastically.
“Duncan, I know it looks bad, but I didn’t do it. I would never do that, no matter how angry I was. I would never hurt you like that.”
“No, that’s right. Walking out on me—twice, I might add—wasn’t hurtful at all.”
“Duncan, you know this is different.”
“No, no I don’t. It seems remarkably the same actually.” He sounded hurt and confused, like a child.
Despite the harsh things he’d said, Jessie wanted nothing more than to take away that hurt. Suddenly her stupid pride seemed hopelessly misguided where her feelings for Duncan were concerned. “Duncan, I’m not your wife or your grandmother. I would never hurt you for my own entertainment, or try to control you. Despite everything, I still care for you. More than I should. More than what’s even remotely smart. Do you believe me?”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he said softly as the phone line began to crackle. “Listen, I’m just pulling into my parking garage. I’ve gotta go.”
“Duncan? Do you want me to come and help you straighten this out?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You’ve done enough already. I’ll handle this. Good-bye Jessie.”
The line went dead and Jessie set the phone down gently in its cradle. This couldn’t be happening. She should be irate that he’d accused her of something so underhanded, but she wasn’t thinking about that right now. All she could focus on was that he needed her. All their problems, everything that had happened didn’t mean a thing next to that. She couldn’t wait to go to him.
Turning back to Clay, she grabbed his arm and squeezed. “Clay, can you watch the store for a while? I’ve got to go over to Duncan’s.”
Both of Clay’s fine blond eyebrows raised in surprise until they were halfway up his smooth forehead. “Sure, but that didn’t exactly sound like a make-up session. Are you sure you want to go over there?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, she replied. “Yes. He’s in trouble. That’s where I belong.”
He nodded knowingly. “So, you’ve finally come to your senses then?”
“Is everyone talking in questions lately, or is it just me?”
Clay made hand language-like motions while slowly enunciating his words. “You love him, that’s what I mean. You realized that you love him?”
Jessie paused in grabbing her purse from under the counter. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. Yes. I think I do.”
“About bloody well time. Now, are you going to fly over there and fling yourself into his arms and declare your undying love or what?”
“Well, he’s kind of angry with me right now, so the flinging will have to wait until after we convince Duncan’s nasty grandmother not to press charges against him.”
Clay narrowed his eyes. “What grandmother? How come I’ve never heard a single word about a grandmother? You can’t leave until you explain that to me at least.”
“I’m sorry to be such a tease, but I’ve really got to go. I’ll fill you in later. I swear.”
“You better, or I will definitely go on strike.” He said petulantly, crossing his arms and pouting at her.
Jessie smiled and leaned in to kiss him on his tanned cheek. “Thanks Clay. You’re the best. I’m so lucky to have you.”
“Yes, you are. Now, get out there and rescue your knight in shining armour,” he said, striding over to the door, he opened it with a flourish and a bow, shooing her out into the late afternoon sunshine.
“I’ll need it,” Jessie muttered to herself, breaking into a jog and smiling despite herself. Even under the worst of circumstances, it was good to be in love. She hoped that is wasn’t too late to convince Duncan of that.
Chapter 28
Duncan felt like the elevator trip up to his apartment was taking hours rather than minutes. It had been just his luck that several ancient dog-walkers had stepped onto the elevator with him. So he was crowded in, nodding politely as the elevator paused on five different floors to let them and their hairy companions off. Potential heart attack aside, he would have preferred to be running up the thirty flights of steps right then. The agonizing trip gave him time to think about his conversation with Jessie.
Was it just his imagination or had she sounded contrite on the phone? Kevin’s advice completely forgotten, he’d called Jessie in anger, too shocked to hear that Evelyn was in town to think straight. How could he have accused Jessie of calling his grandmother like that? He was such a jerk sometimes, no wonder she was always angry with him. In his heart, he knew she would never do anything so devious, but it had seemed to make perfect sense at the time. How else would his grandmother find out he was keeping Theresa’s location from her?
Jessie should have just hung up on him, but she hadn’t. She’d sounded like she missed him. Her excited voice when she’d realized who it was on the other end of the line had almost undone his plan to accuse her. He’d wanted to beg her for forgiveness, and promise her anything if she’d just try one last time, but he hadn’t. She’d rejected him twice, and he couldn’t face anymore.
Had she actually said she cared about him at the end of their phone conversation? Despite his totally nasty accusations, was it possible that she still had feelings for him? Suddenly, he wished he’d said yes when she’d offered to come over and help him through his confrontation with his grandmother. It would all be so much easier with her at his side. Everything would be easier with her at his side. If he could just get through the next half hour, he vowed to go to her, wherever she was, and tell her he couldn’t live without her anymore. Screw Kevin’s lame advice. Even if she laughed in his face, it would be better than never having taken the chance. He loved her; and only a fool would let his pride get in the way of that.
The doors of the elevator slid open and Duncan strode purposefully to his apartment. When he opened his front door he was surprised at the complete absence of sound. He’d expected to walk into a scene straight out of a television melodrama with lots of shouting and histrionics, but just the tinkle of ice in a single crystal tumbler on the coffee table interrupted the silence.
He scanned the apartment, but there wasn’t anyone in sight. Not Theresa, Hannibal, or his grandmother. His heart seized in his chest. Was he too late? Were they gone already? Easing into the apartment, he looked out on the balcony and was relieved to see a familiar, tall, gray-haired form, looking out at the city with her arms outstretched stiffly, braced on the railing.
He approached his grandmother slowly; noting the pale, grayish pink suit and the thick, gray, upswept hair with more white in it than he remembered. It had been ten years since the last time he’d seen this woman, but from behind, nothing much had changed. She still possessed the iron-straight posture, and bearing of a queen that he hadn’t forgotten from his childhood. She was as unapproachable as ever, but he forced himself to her side.
She turned when she heard the screen door open, and he wa
s shocked at the changes there on her face. The years had not been kind to her. There were deep creases and wrinkles around her mouth and eyes, but the biggest change was in her eyes. He remembered how they used to spark and blaze with bright blue fire when she’d been angry with him, which was often. Now they were pale—washed out, and very red. Had she been crying? Impossible, his grandmother didn’t cry.
Trying to cover his shock, he spoke to her in the formal way she preferred. “Hello, Grandmother, you’re looking well. Where’s Theresa?” He asked, propping both elbows on the balcony a foot away from her. He did not attempt to embrace her despite the oddly vulnerable air about her. It would be grossly improper under the circumstances. She was here to take his sister away, after all.
“Oh, I do not,” she said impatiently, her hand fluttering up toward her face. “I look like an old lady. But you, you look very well. Like your grandfather. Just as handsome.” She studied him for a moment and then turned her gaze back to the view. With a rueful sniff she continued, “Just as stubborn as well, I might add.” She looked at him again speculatively. “Shame about that scar though. I told you hockey was for cretins.”
Fighting the impulse to cover his offensive eyebrow with his hand, Duncan turned around so his back was to the railing, and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly glad that he was still wearing his tie from work. The somewhat formal attire seemed appropriate for this meeting. “You’re not actually going to stand here and chastise me for joining hockey against your wishes, like twenty years ago, are you?”
“No, I’m just stating a fact. That,” she gestured toward his face, “never would have happened if you’d continued playing the piano like I suggested.”
“No, but I might have slit my wrists from the boredom of daily piano lessons with Monsieur Pussy. He smelled like cabbage and fell asleep during my sessions.”
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