Thinking back on the past few days, I wanted to send the perfect message. I wanted to express my feelings for him. I wanted to tell him how much I missed him and how much he meant to me. I wanted to tell him all that with the eloquence of an award-winning screenwriter, but, at that early, sleepless hour, I couldn’t think of anything better than, “Happy Thanksgiving. I miss you.”
Epilogue
Boston, MA – Four weeks later
“So . . . y’all are back together now?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, shoving my Brown Bears t-shirt into my suitcase as I attempted to hold the phone between my left ear and shoulder, watch Schooling Dad, and talk to Heather all at once. Although I wasn’t packing many clothes, trying to fit the ones I was bringing in with my family’s presents was proving more difficult than I imagined. We were both getting ready to head home for Christmas. While it had only been a month, it felt like a lifetime had passed.
Roch Turner survived the gunshot wound and was recovering well. The bullet entered his left abdomen and cut through his spleen, causing it to rupture. Somehow, the doctors were able to save most of the spleen, opting to remove the small affected section laparoscopically. Roch spent a week in the hospital before being flown home to L.A. and placed on bed rest.
This decision could have greatly affected the show had it not been for the quick thinking of my best friend and head writer, who came up with a scenario that, after a family vacation to go skiing, Roch’s character had to go to Europe for work for an undisclosed amount of time. He was then filmed through Skype from his home during video chats with his daughters and a new character was added, his crazy older sister, played by veteran television actress Molly Wright, who was staying with the girls during his absence.
The addition of a new recurring character gave the show added hype and made the already popular sitcom explode in ratings. It also brought back the show’s original premise – a family trying to survive the trials and tribulations of life while adjusting to each other with humor and love. Heather had not only saved the show from what could have been a disastrous implosion. She also gave it back its heart.
“How can you not know?” she pressed. “You’re talking again, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And he’s planning to fly home for a week after New Year’s, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then how are you not back together?”
“So, uh, what’s going on with Rosalyn’s case?”
“Girl, don’t even,” she scoffed. “You’re so not getting off that easily.”
“I’m not trying anything,” I insisted, carrying two pairs of jeans from my bedroom to the living room and tossing them in the suitcase. “It’s . . . I don’t know. I don’t have an answer. I really wish I did, but I don’t. And, believe it or not, I am curious about what’s going on with that case.”
“Sure.”
“Seriously!”
“All right, fine. Roch bonded her out of jail a couple weeks ago,” she began. “He sent his lawyer to Colorado since he’s, you know, bedridden and stuff. Jordan, he’s, like, a completely different person now. I almost didn’t recognize him when we had our first video chat about the script. I don’t know if it’s because he had a near death experience or an epiphany . . . maybe it was just finding out he was someone’s father. Heck, maybe it’s the pain meds. Whatever happened, he doesn’t care about himself anymore. In our hour long read-through, he didn’t talk about himself once. All he wanted to talk about was his daughter.”
“He is aware she tried to kill him, right?”
“Jordan, she—”
“Three times,” I added, shoving my right foot in my suitcase to make room. “Almost killed Alson, too. Attacking multiple people is psychotic. Doesn’t sound like a good idea . . . you know, bonding out a psycho. What’s to stop her from trying it again?”
“I really don’t think she will.” When I refused to respond, she continued, “Look, I know what you saw . . . I mean, yeah, she looked like a certified nut job that day. But, that’s not the Dr. Rosie I know. She’s really nice. I think . . . I think she just snapped.”
“And the understatement of the year award goes to—”
“Really?”
“Call ‘em like I see ‘em.” I frowned as I knelt down on my overstuffed suitcase and attempted to zip it shut. It might have been easier to just mail their gifts, I thought. “How’s Alson doing?”
“Actually, he’s like a different person, too,” she marveled. “When his mom found out about the drugs, I don’t know, must have snapped her into mom mode or something. She’s been more involved in his life than ever before. He seems a lot better off for it. So, I guess, Dr. Rosie helped him, too, even though she was not in her right state of mind.”
“So I guess she’ll pull out the old insanity defense.”
“Jordan, you shouldn’t be so harsh,” Heather scolded. “Who knows what could’ve been going through her mind at that moment. She’s spent her entire life trying to help others. People like that are rarely evil.”
“Heather, I might sound harsh, but I’m looking at the facts,” I retorted, groaning when the zipper, which was finally cooperating, snagged on the itchy, hunter green sweater my mother gave me one year and insisted I bring home every Christmas. “Great.”
“Well, here’s a fact I’ll bet you didn’t know,” she argued. “Nancy told me the morning everything went down, you know, that Wednesday? Dr. Rosie received a call from Cedars Sinai. Her grandmother died. Think about it, Jordan. Her grandmother was her only family. How would you react?”
“If I knew I had a father and I also knew who he was, I don’t think my first instinct would be to kill him,” I answered, furrowing my brow as I tried to slowly unhook the dreaded sweater from the zipper. “Then I would definitely be alone. And kind of psychotic.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” she insisted. “We were both raised by parents who loved us and took care of us. Sure, they were annoying and way too overprotective, but they were good parents. If I were in her situation? If I was raised by a grandmother filled with bitter hatred for the man she assumed was the reason her daughter died . . . I don’t know what I’d do.”
“That man gave her a granddaughter.”
“That’s true, but—
“So you’re supporting Dr. Crazy? You think her actions were justified?” I challenged. “What about Trip then? Is what she did to him okay? Is it okay she almost killed me, too?”
“No! I . . . oh, Trip,” she trailed off. The silence that followed was so heavy, I began to actually feel its weight. Finally, sighing, she continued. “I miss Trip. A lot. And what she did . . . it’s inexcusable. She should, and will, be held accountable for what she did. But it’s not my place to judge. Or yours. I guess I’m just trying to look for the good here.”
“Well, you’re a better person than me,” I muttered, cringing as I gave in and yanked the zipper, causing the thread to follow and leaving behind a tiny hole in the sweater. “Maybe she won’t notice—”
“What?”
“Never mind,” I shook my head. “When’s your flight arrive again?”
“Not tomorrow,” she replied. “I mean, I was planning to, but I’ve gotta finish some stuff first. Gotta love rewrites. Hopefully the next day. When’s your flight? Tomorrow at noon, right?”
“Yep.”
“Alone?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Well, the last time you tried to leave Beantown, you didn’t get out alone,” she replied, referring to Jon. “So what’s going on with that whole thing?”
“With what whole thing?” I snapped defensively. “Nothing’s going on anywhere.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious,” I insisted. “He’s my f
riend. Period.”
“You may think that, but that’s not how he sees it.” She clicked her tongue. “You think your relationship with Rick is complicated—”
“My relationship with Jon is not complicated!” I snapped. “We’re friends, okay? Just friends. And I haven’t even seen him in a while. He got some guest starring spot on Brooklyn Times and has been filming in New York all week.”
“Brooklyn Times?” she groaned. “Are you serious? Oh, that show’s writing is horrible! It’s so cliché! It’s so—”
“Hey, it’s his deal, not mine. Anyway, he’s not exactly a fan of Schooling Dad either.”
“He’s an idiot,” she replied matter-of-factly. As we laughed, my doorbell rang. “What was that?”
“Someone’s at the door,” I frowned, dropping the holey sweater and standing up. Shifting my cell phone, I stared through the peephole. On the other side of the door stood Jon. He was glancing around the deserted hallway and fidgeting. “Hey, Heather, can you hold on a sec?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Lowering the phone, I unlocked my door and opened it. I expected Jon to push past me like he always does. I expected him to come inside, grab my last water bottle, get comfortable on my couch, and begin telling me about his week, starting with everything that annoyed him. But he didn’t. Instead, he stood at the threshold. He green eyes filled with anxiety as he continued to fidget.
“Hey,” I said, smiling up at him.
“Hey.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his wool overcoat.
“Do you . . . need something?”
“Huh? Uh, no.” He shook his head, his chest heaving as he tapped his foot.
“Do you . . . want to come in?”
“No. I, uh, I have to go,” he hesitated. “Home, I mean. You know, for Christmas.”
“O-kay,” I frowned, tapping the back of my cell phone’s case with my nail. “Well, I guess . . . have a good trip?”
“Yeah, you too,” he nodded, cracking his knuckles. He just stood there.
“Jon, what’s up? You’re acting weird, even for you.”
“I . . . I wanted to wish you Merry Christmas and a safe flight.”
“Oh. Well, thanks,” I smiled. “I hope you have a Merry Christmas, too.”
“Yeah, thanks,” he nodded again, swallowing hard. Even in the dim hallway light, I could tell his face was flushing.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah,” he insisted. “I . . . I also wanted to tell you . . . I’ve missed you.”
“It’s only been a week.” I laughed. “Anyway, I’ll see you next week. It’s time for us both to fulfill our annual family obligations. You know, that tiny clause in the contract our folks made us sign before fleeing the nest?”
“Right.” He laughed, too, his voice higher than usual. “Well, Merry Christmas, Jordan.”
“Merry Christmas, Jon,” I smiled. What happened next caught me off guard because it happened so fast. As I stood there smiling up at him, he leaned in for what, I assumed, was a hug. But he didn’t hug me. Instead, he pulled me close and kissed me. It was soft and sweet and before I could even react, he pushed back, and hurried down the hallway. I stood in the doorway, watching him until he was gone.
“Hey! Hey!” Glancing around, I realized Heather was still on the phone. Walking back into my apartment and shutting the door, I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey! Jordan?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, staring into space as my brain tried to compute what just happened.
“What’s going on?” she demanded. “What did he want?”
“I,” trailing off, I lifted my fingers to my lips, feeling completely confused.
“Jordan!” she repeated. “What’s going on?”
“I think it just got complicated.”
Also by Rachel Sharpe and Soul Mate Publishing:
COLD AMBITION
When Jordan James decided to embark on a career as a private investigator, she never could have imagined that a chance encounter would lead to her staring down the barrel of a gun on the roof’s edge of a high-rise building. As she begins to investigate her first case, the puzzling murder of a prominent businessman that has left Boston’s finest mystified for more than two decades, she finds herself suddenly immersed in a treacherous underworld brimming with betrayal, raw greed, and political subterfuge of international proportions. In the midst of this, she discovers she is falling for her mysterious client despite the hints of his dark past. Can this feisty Southern girl with a penchant for trouble solve this baffling case, or is she doomed to become another tragic chapter in an international conspiracy?
Available now on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/o7oa9eh
LOST DISTINCTION
"It all started with a favor . . ."
When private investigator Jordan James agreed to search for the missing son of a U.S. Ambassador, she didn’t realize she was walking into a case one hundred years in the making. The deeper she delves into this unusual assignment, the more shocking, and the more dangerous, it becomes. With time running out and lives at stake, Jordan must race to identify the culprit of an elaborate plot while also uncovering a far more personal truth too intimate to ignore . . .
Available now on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/pwp9obb
Bitter Retribution (Jordan James, PI Series) Page 29