Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel

by Laura Moore

  “And we’re going to visit Hawk Hill,” Max said in case anyone had forgotten.

  “That’s right, Max, after you see Daddy this weekend. Now, let’s say good night to everyone.”

  “Why don’t I put the kids to bed?” Margot’s suggestion was met with cries of “Yes! Yes! And we can read Clip Clop” from Kate and Max.

  “Your idea meets with unanimous approval,” Jordan said lightly. “Thanks. This way I can get dinner on the table sooner. Jade was quizzing me about tonight’s menu and gave it her stamp of approval. I’m actually surprised she hasn’t come down for her premeal grazing.”

  “Homework, probably,” Margot said. “Come on, kids. You want to come up and read Clip Clop, Travis?”

  “Thanks, but I’m going to call Tim and let him know Saturday’s okay with Jordan.”

  Travis’s plan to remain downstairs was fine with Owen. His presence would make it far less obvious that Owen was maintaining a careful distance from Jordan, keeping on his side of the granite island with Jordan on the other. Once she started cooking and the smell of sautéing garlic, sausage, and broccoli rabe filled his nostrils, he might be able to relax.

  It killed him, though, that she looked so lovely, with the tendrils of her hair curling from the steam rising from the pasta water. He knew if he put his lips to the underside of her jaw, her skin would be as soft as a dew-covered rose. And she would smell like baby powder. Christ.

  Travis was setting the kitchen table and Owen was slicing a thick loaf of rustic Italian bread when Margot came back downstairs.

  “The kids behave themselves?” Jordan asked, stirring the sausage and rabe.

  Margot nodded. “Of course.”

  “Is Jade not ready yet?”

  “She said she didn’t want dinner,” she replied, sounding preoccupied.

  Jordan paused in the midst of stirring. “Not hungry? Pasta’s her favorite.”

  “I know. I offered to bring her up a plate.”

  “Oh. I’ll get one ready. She’s had a bunch of end-of-the-year assignments.”

  But Margot was shaking her head. “She didn’t even want a plate brought up. I offered, too.”

  “But—”

  “She wouldn’t let me in the room, Jordan. Said she wanted to be alone. Shades of last year.”

  Owen had no idea what that meant, so he concentrated on dropping the bread into the basket.

  “But she was fine upstairs with me. She wanted brownies for dessert. She was going to enlist Owen to persuade you to let them make an appearance at dessert right after she’d gotten the ratcatcher from my closet—Oh my God!”

  Jordan looked horror-stricken.

  “Jordan, what is it?” He’d been listening to the conversation with equal parts confusion and amusement, unable to fathom why Jordan and Margot seemed so troubled by Jade’s behavior. It seemed like perfectly normal irrational teen stuff to him.

  Jordan didn’t seem to hear him. “The closet,” she repeated in the same tone. “Margot, it’s where I keep the diary. I was distracted and sent her to look for a sleeveless ratcatcher for Charlottesville. You know how Jade is, incapable of finding anything. She tears through a space like a hurricane. I had the diary hidden beneath a pile of shirts—not riding shirts. Do you think …”

  Margot was already heading toward the stairs.

  “No, Margot, wait.” In a flurry of activity, she turned off the pasta sauce, poured it over the bowl of steaming pasta, and rushed over to her. “Let me go. The diary was in my closet. I need to explain what it was doing there.” She reached out and touched her sister’s arm, “Margot, I am so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, Jordan. We should have burned the damned thing last year. Do you think that’s what’s happened?”

  She nodded tightly. “Yes, and I can’t stand to think how much finding it will hurt her. Don’t hold dinner. I may be a while.” Offering Owen a quick, strained smile, she ran upstairs.

  Jordan rapped on Jade’s door. But though her mind had been racing as she hastened up the stairs to her sister’s room, she had no idea what she was going to say beyond, “Jade, it’s me. Let me in.”

  There was silence. Then, “Not interested.”

  “I need to speak to you.”

  “Nothing to say.”

  That flat monotone made Jordan want to weep. She grabbed the door handle and shook it. “Jade, come on, please let me in. You have to let me explain—”

  The door opened with a sudden violence. Jade, her face ravaged by tears, her fingers bony white, was clutching the bright pink leather of Nicole’s diary in a death grip.

  “This I gotta hear. So what do you want to explain to me first? That my mom didn’t actually despise me? That she wasn’t screwing around behind my dad’s back? That she wasn’t a total bitch to end all bitches? Yeah, explain it all to me. Make it all nice, like one of your pretty rooms with everything placed just so. Tell me some more lies, Jordan.”

  “I—” God, she had no idea why Nicole had written any of the tripe she had.

  “Wow, such eloquence. Now I know my mom didn’t mean any of the stuff she was writing. It was all fiction, wasn’t it? Or maybe Mom was playing opposite day whenever she picked up her pen.” Her sneer was ugly and heartbreaking.

  Jordan tried to keep her voice level as she pleaded, “It was a private diary. No one should read another person’s innermost—”

  “That didn’t stop you, though, did it? You read it, and Margot, too, I bet, and then you both spouted bald-face lies to me about how Mom adored Dad.”

  “They weren’t lies, Jade.”

  “Bull. She didn’t love anyone—not Dad, not me. She was a heartless, selfish bitch. And I was gullible enough to believe you. All those months I spent defending her and getting myself hated for it. All those months I missed her. All those stupid, pointless tears I shed for her, a mother who didn’t give a crap about her only child.”

  “That diary doesn’t reflect the true picture of who Nicole was. Who knows what—”

  “You know what? I’m not interested in talking anymore.” She made to close the door.

  Jordan put her hand on the panel, stopping her. “Jade, I am very sorry that I’ve added to your hurt. I understand that you don’t want to talk to me now. Maybe I can call Stuart Wilde?”

  Jade gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, no,” she said shaking her head. “My days of bowling with the Rev are definitely over.” She gave a hard little smile. “And I think you should get Ned to start teaching your kids. I’ve got better ways to spend my time.”

  This time she shut the door firmly in Jordan’s face.

  None of them ended up eating Jordan’s pasta. Margot was distracted and simply picked at her broccoli rabe and then set her fork back down again. Travis ate a few more bites, but the scowl on his face made Owen think he wouldn’t mind going a few rounds with a punching bag. As for himself, even though he’d been presented with a golden opportunity to make his excuses and get the hell out of Rosewood, he couldn’t stop picturing Jordan’s face before she’d gone to Jade’s room.

  If Jordan had looked distraught before, he could only describe her expression when she came back downstairs as haunted.

  Crossing the kitchen, she sank wearily into the chair next to his. He wanted nothing more than to draw her into his arms and make everything go away for her.

  “How was she? Should I go?”

  “It’s bad, Margot. Really bad. Jade’s convinced that every word Nicole wrote was how she really felt. And of course, Jade wasn’t going through it as you and I did. I know I basically skimmed most of it—except the parts where she went on about him. But she’s really reading it, giving every word weight and significance. She’s looking at it with the eyes of a grieving daughter who lost her mother way too early. Those stupid rambling entries are convincing her that the mother she loved was actually a selfish monster. Damn that diary.” She shuddered.

  Unable to help himself, Owen reached out and began stroking her back, ho
ping to quiet the tremors wracking her.

  “What can we do? Should I call Stuart?”

  Jordan shook her head. “No, she refuses to have anything to do with him. That goes for the children, too.”

  “What?”

  “She’s furious with me because she thinks I was feeding her lies about Nicole. So she’s hit on the best way to get back at me by stopping the lessons with the kids.”

  Margot stood. “I’ve got to go up and straighten this out with her.”

  “No, don’t,” Jordan said. “I mean, of course you should talk to her, but don’t force her into teaching the kids.”

  “But she loves teaching them. She’s so proud that Kate’s beginning to check her diagonals.”

  “I know. But I don’t want her to start resenting them. She’s dealing with enough bad feelings. I can work with the kids or maybe I can ask Ned if he has the time. Neither of us will be able to match Jade in the children’s eyes, but that’s the way it is.” She was silent a moment, her expression ineffably sad. “God, whatever prompted me to think that I could figure out the identity of Nicole’s mystery man?”

  “I can’t understand what Nicole was doing with a journal in the first place. She wasn’t exactly the reflective type,” Margot muttered as she pushed her chair under the table. “Well, I guess it’s my turn to go match wits with Jade. If only she weren’t so smart. Damn, she was doing so well. Amazingly well, considering what she’s had to go through.”

  Owen saw Jordan duck her head and squeeze her eyes shut. His hand slid up to her shoulder and kneaded it.

  “Want me to come up, Margot?” Travis was already rising to his feet.

  Margot nodded. “With you there she might actually open the door. As for getting her to talk to us, well, you know what she’s like.”

  “Yup. As stubborn as you.” He smiled gently. “But I don’t think it matters if she doesn’t want to talk tonight. At the moment what she needs is to know how much we love her.”

  “That’s true. You’re a wise man, Travis Maher,” Margot said softly and slipped her hand in his.

  “On rare occasions,” he said. “Come on, babe, let’s go do what we can to stop Nicole’s poison from spreading.”

  After Margot and Travis left, Jordan’s hold on her emotions slipped. Choked sobs rocked her bowed back.

  Owen didn’t hesitate. Lifting her off the wooden chair, he settled her in his lap and then wrapped his arms about her, cradling her as she cried.

  “It’s all my fault, I’ve made Jade so unhappy,” she whispered into the column of his neck. “I was so stupid, staring at the computer and thinking about the house and you and whether you’d like a particular piece when I should have been listening to her. If I’d just focused, I would have gone and found the damned shirt myself.”

  “Shh, Jade will make it through this. She’s a tough kid. And Travis is right. She’s got a lot of people who love her. And she loves you all in return.”

  “You should have seen her face. She looked so lost, Owen. So hurt. And she’s going to torture herself by reading her mother’s diary over and over again. How will she ever be able to erase those careless words from her memory?”

  “Give her time, Jordan,” he said. And then because he couldn’t stand to see her tears, he raised his hands to frame her face and began kissing them away.

  Screw the damn baby powder, he thought. Nothing was as important as making Jordan feel better.

  Though he’d kissed her tears dry and lifted her spirits enough that she managed a wan smile when he gave her a last, lingering good-night kiss and a whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” his own worries came crashing down on him as he made the short drive back to Hawk Hill.

  Disliking messy emotions, he’d always taken care to avoid serious relationships. So why, with the Jade crisis offering a perfect excuse to leave, had he remained by Jordan’s side? What had happened to quash his excellent sense of self-preservation? A simple “I can see this is a family matter,” or some similar line, would have gotten him out of there. Yet he’d stayed at Rosewood precisely because Jordan was upset and dealing with a messy, serious problem.

  And in his need to comfort, he’d disregarded his own dismay at discovering the scent he considered possibly the most erotic in the world was nothing more than talcum powder.

  The discovery that Jordan used baby powder to make her irresistible might seem silly and superficial. But what the powder represented was not: babies, commitment, roots. Everything Owen had previously made an art of avoiding. He’d recognized the warning signs flashing around Jordan from the first but arrogantly ignored them. Now he didn’t know whether, in his complex and ever-expanding need for her, he was losing sight of who he was and what he’d always thought he wanted in life.

  He passed the night staring wide-eyed at the ceiling in his Hawk Hill bedroom, wondering what the hell to do. Could he be everything he wanted to be when he was with Jordan and yet remain recognizable to himself?

  And what of the neat plan he’d laid out for his life, a plan as finely drawn, balanced, elegant, and pleasing as one of his architectural renderings? As organized and efficient as she was, Jordan’s life was as messy and complicated as one of Max’s crayon drawings of Felix driving the tractor.

  Owen just couldn’t see himself in that kind of picture.

  ONLY ABLE to shut out anguished thoughts of Jade for a few brief hours, Jordan awoke as exhausted as when sleep had finally claimed her. Luckily, the children, their tanks full of morning energy, didn’t notice the long looks and mute head shakes she exchanged with Travis and Margot at breakfast.

  “At least we have Charlottesville this weekend,” Margot said with determined cheerfulness as she poured orange juice into everyone’s glasses. “She should do really well with Sweet William. And maybe bring home a couple of blue ribbons with Aspen.”

  “Depending on how Gypsy Queen goes in the warm-up, I might put Jade on her for the preliminary jumper class,” Travis said.

  “That’s an excellent idea. Now if we can just keep her busy until Saturday morning.”

  “I was thinking of asking her if she wanted to go shopping this afternoon,” Jordan said. “Miriam can watch the kids.”

  “But we have our riding lesson with Jade.”

  “Jade might not be able to give you one today, Kate,” Jordan replied. “But I’m going to see whether Ned has some time. You know Ned taught Jade, Margot, and me to ride.”

  “Can we come shopping with you and Jade, Mommy?”

  “Some other day, Max. I’d like to spend some special time with Jade.”

  “Besides, Max, if you’re out shopping, you’ll miss a chance to ride on the tractor with Felix,” Travis reminded him.

  The question of what Max would be missing more—the joy of consumerism versus the visceral pleasure of bouncing atop a rumbling, massive-wheeled tractor—became moot.

  Jade came down to the kitchen with her hair a ragged wet mop around her pale face and her lips pressed in a flat stubborn line as everyone around the table greeted her. When Jordan proposed picking her up after school to go shopping at Jade’s favorite Georgetown boutique, she gave her a withering look for having even made the offer.

  “A blast and a half for sure, but I have other plans this afternoon. And I don’t want breakfast, either,” she said, already shouldering her messenger bag.

  Both Margot and Jordan spoke at once.

  “And what plans would those be?”

  “I’m sorry you don’t want to go. I was really looking forward to it, Jade.”

  “Well, a little rain has to fall in everyone’s life, don’t it, Jordan? And you know what else? I really don’t feel much like sharing info with any of you. I’ve got a life. Maybe you all should get one, too.”

  She stalked out, without a single flip comment or a casual ruffle of Olivia’s hair as she passed, ignoring, too, Margot’s cry of, “In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a curfew on weeknights.”

  Collectively th
ey sat with their ears nervously straining for the sound of the Porsche roaring to life, its wheels spinning on gravel. Jade didn’t disappoint.

  Sinking back in her chair, Margot picked up her coffee and stared at it glumly. “That was brilliant of me. Any hope she’ll be going out with Brian Steadman?”

  The next two days were just as painful. Jade would get up, leave immediately for school, come back home and ride, and then, announcing she had work to do in the town library, leave again. She’d return a minute before her curfew. The rare times she hung around, it was to treat everyone to a stony silence or, if pushed, to stinging replies before stalking upstairs to her room.

  No dummies, the children quickly picked up on the fact that something was wrong with their superheroine Aunt Jade.

  They were in Max’s room, the three children playing with the blocks, using them as an obstacle course for Max’s collection of trucks while Jordan packed Max’s bag for the weekend visit with Richard, due to pick them up in a half hour.

  “Why isn’t Jade teaching us anymore, Mommy?”

  “Yeah, she doesn’t make funny jokes, either. Does she hate us, Mommy? Libby Teller said she hated me ’cause I wouldn’t let her ride the scooter at outdoor playtime,” Max said.

  Feeling as if her heart had dropped right through the floorboards, Jordan sank to her knees beside them and enfolded Kate and Max in a hug. Olivia alone seemed untroubled, absorbed in ramming her truck into the bed’s wooden leg.

  “Jade doesn’t hate you. She loves you guys. You know that. She’s just very busy right now. When you get bigger, you get a lot more work at school. I’m sure when the school year finishes, she’ll start giving you lessons on Doc again. And Libby Teller doesn’t hate you, either, Max. She was just angry because she wanted you to share the scooter with her. Next time you’ll remember to share, right, Maxwell Robert Stevens?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. Libby thinks she’s the boss of me. She’s not.”

  “No, she’s not. But you still need to remember to share.” She’d have to talk to Drew Farber, Max’s teacher, Monday morning and make sure she was aware of the situation between Max and Libby.