Central Park Rendezvous

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  He smirked at the pun. “What scholarship did you give up?”

  Jamie looked around the room then rose to her feet. “I’d better get going or I’ll be late.”

  “Jamie…” Sean stood and hooked her elbow gently. “I think he only cares about you. He wants you—”

  “I know… it’s just”—she sighed as her gaze met his—“I’d do anything for him. Setting aside my dreams for a while to help him, there’s nothing wrong in that.”

  “Only if you forget to pick the dreams back up.”

  “What about you?” She bobbed her head toward the room. “Is this your dream?”

  The question pushed him back. His dreams? What dreams? His only dream had been to be a soldier, but God slammed that door in his face—literally, and left him the scars as a mean reminder.

  Sean shifted and glanced at the parts for the old Harley. He’d have it put together in a week or so, it’d give him some cash, but what then?

  I don’t have any dreams….

  Maybe his mom had been right. There was no purpose for him. No reason for him to be alive except to cause pain—which he’d just done to the one ray of light in his dark world.

  “Guess we’re not the best and brightest dreamers.” Jamie’s wide eyes riveted his feet to the floor as she lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug.

  “You have a dream,” Sean said. “You should follow it.”

  Jamie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?”

  “Sean…” Her voice cracked. It sounded like she was on the verge of crying.

  The air had thickened, and even he found it tough to breathe. “Tell you what—your class isn’t till six, right?”

  Her hesitant nod did strange things to his stomach. The innocence wreathing her face wrapped his heart like a vise.

  “Wanna grab a burger? Then I can walk you to class?”

  “I…” She snapped her mouth closed. Then said, “Okay.”

  A warm thrill raced through his veins as she agreed. “Great. C’mon.” He snatched his keys and a couple of the letters from the tin. “You can help me sort through these.”

  “Well, here we are.” Aunt Mitzi topped the stairs, a white rectangular plate in hand.

  “Oh,” Sean said, “sorry, we’ve got to head out.”

  His aunt gave them an appraising look then popped a finger sandwich in her mouth. “Have fun.”

  There was entirely too much amusement in his aunt’s voice and face as he guided Jamie into the brisk November afternoon.

  “I thought she’d be upset after making us those sandwiches,” Jamie said as they strolled down the bustling street.

  “She’s cool. Pretty laid-back most times.”

  “I love that necklace she had on. What is it?”

  “What necklace?” Okay, so he might be able to name every make and model of motorcycles, but he couldn’t remember what his aunt wore. Was it a crime?

  “The one she had on. It was some medallion.”

  Pressing the crosswalk button, Sean remembered the piece. “She’s had that since I can remember. Wears it all the time.”

  “It looks like some type of coin.”

  Sean slowed as he walked. Coin? The piece burst into his mind. The engraving. “Wait a minute….” He whipped out the letters from his back pocket and rifled through them, flipping pages. His head pounded, the beginnings of a migraine. He blinked to ward off the haze taking over. The coin… was the coin on her pendant the same coin his grandfather had spoken of in the letters? But… how? She wasn’t even a blood relation. How would she have gotten the coin?

  “Sean?”

  Jamie’s voice sounded distant.

  “No…” He felt hands leading him to the side. Tensed—then reminded himself to relax. He didn’t want to pass out, not in front of this girl who had it all together.

  “Sit on the step.”

  He eased down, feeling as if his pulse would explode in his head. Gray… haze… clouding…

  “Sean?” Soft hands touched his arm, the voice growing stronger.

  He blinked, slowly coming out of the fog. Only then did he realize he wasn’t leaning against a rail or wall, but against Jamie Russo. Swallowing and straightening, he tired to shake off the haze. “Sorry.”

  The warmth of her hand on his back made him not want to move. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is this connected to the scars?”

  He nodded, hating the TBI, the way it crippled him. “A kid threw a soda can at our Humvee. It was actually an IED. Three of my men died, two others went home without arms and legs. I came back with TBI.”

  “Traumatic Brain Injury.”

  He looked at her, surprised she knew what he meant.

  “My dad got it in Vietnam. It took him years, but he overcame most of the symptoms. It’s why dancing was so important to him.”

  Braving a glance to her pretty face didn’t give him what he expected—pity. Instead he saw understanding and genuine concern in her brown eyes. Something inside him twisted and kinked, knotting his stomach.

  Sean pulled himself upright. “We should get going, grab that burger.” Before he did something stupid. Like break his no-more-women rule.

  Chapter 5

  After their burgers, Jamie walked with Sean toward the dance studio, her mind still snagged on the necklace his aunt wore. “Do you think… do you think your aunt’s necklace could be the coin mentioned in the letters?”

  “It could be anything, but it doesn’t make any sense. Why would she have it? Especially if my grandfather gave it to your uncle?”

  “Well, your aunt—godmother—would have been close to your mother, right?”

  He gave a curt nod.

  “I thought Uncle Alan said Gail was your mom’s sister—”

  “But—”

  “I know. She didn’t have a sister. But maybe they were like sisters. So, what if Gail…” Jamie groaned. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s driving me crazy. Do you think you could ask her about it?”

  “You just want to play Cupid.”

  “I can’t help it. My uncle is an amazing man.” She grinned. “Sean, think about it—what if that’s the coin? If her name were Gail, I’d lay my life down she was my uncle’s long-lost love.”

  Warm and inviting, Sean’s laughter spiraled around the chilled air and drew her in. “You’re incurable.”

  A horse-drawn carriage clopped around the bend, drawing their attention.

  “Will you just ask her about it?”

  “You aren’t going to leave it alone until I do, are you?”

  “What if she knows who or where Gail is? What if because you don’t ask, Gail is never found, and my poor uncle dies a sad, lonely bachelor?”

  “Ouch.” He raised his hands. “Okay, okay. Enough with the guilt session.”

  “So, you’ll ask?”

  Another laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

  Jamie threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you!”

  Sean stood in the kitchen where his aunt chopped vegetables on the marble countertop. What got him here, what pushed him to ask her about the necklace that even now peeked out from her blouse, he didn’t know.

  Oh yes, he did. It was that hug. Jamie’s spontaneous expression of glee. That reaction had a deadly and dangerous effect on Sean because he knew he’d do anything for her after that hug.

  “So, what’s up, handsome?” Aunt Mitzi popped a piece of bell pepper in her mouth as she lifted the cutting board over the large cooking pot then scraped the knife along the surface and dumped in the veggies. “You look like you have something on your mind.” She slid a sly smile his way. “How’re things with Jamie?”

  Sean ducked his head, hating the way the heat filled his face. He was crazy about the ballerina, but he wasn’t sure about stepping into the explosive waters of dating with her—or anyone. “She’s… good.”

  “Oh, come on, you clod! She likes you, and if I’m reading this correctly,
you’re a bit over the moon about her, too.” Her hand moved to the necklace, and Sean realized how often she did that. He’d never noticed before. Were those markings the same as the ones in the letter? If they were, how did she get it? Was it possible there was more than one coin like that?

  As he studied the piece, he realized she’d frozen with her eyes wide.

  Sean reached for the pendent and lifted it. “You wear this all the time.” He turned it over, and his stomach clamped at the inscription—just like in the letter. “It must be special to you.”

  Her mouth opened then closed. “It is.” She quickly moved to the fridge and bent over.

  “Where did you get it?”

  Armed with meat in a white paper wrapper and more veggies, she straightened and nudged the door closed with her foot. She dumped the contents on the counter, her back to him.

  Sean switched to the other side, leaning back against the high-end counters. He touched her shoulder. “Aunt Mitzi?”

  “Could you grab the oregano and paprika for me, Sean?” She wouldn’t face him.

  Something was going on. He wasn’t sure what, but he’d never been one to back down. In the letters he’d read “The Wolfe honor was as solid as the ships they built. And just as unsinkable.” He’d like to think the same was true of tenacity. Tugging the letters from his back pocket, he knew he had to find the answers.

  Carefully he unfolded the letter and placed it on the counter, over the food, and noticed his godmother slow her pace once her gaze struck the papers. “Where did you get the medallion, Aunt Mitzi?”

  Her shoulders slumped, both hands resting on the edge of the counter as she looked down. She drew in a long, hard breath. “Please, Sean…” Her voice hitched. Chin trembling, she shook her head. “Please, don’t ask.”

  A tear streaked down her perfectly made-up face. Slowly, she wiped it, backed up a step, then walked out of the kitchen.

  Chapter 6

  After a quick shower and change of clothes, Jamie stuffed her gear in her satchel, donned her coat and scarf, then rushed from the dressing room. Since the day they’d gone for a burger before class, Sean had “just happened” to be in Central Park, at Bow Bridge, as she made her way home. As she barreled out the door armed with hope that he’d be there again, she collided with someone.

  “What is your hurry?” Monet asked, the light from the studio sign reflecting off the hurt in her face.

  “Just… gotta get home.”

  “Why? You don’t have a job now, you aren’t going to school—what are you hurrying for?”

  The words touched a raw spot. The job thing… well, she needed a job, but she wasn’t overly qualified, having spent all her adult years working at an antique store. And she certainly couldn’t tell Monet about Sean without her automatically assuming they were dating. They weren’t. But Sean had waited for her in the park just about every night after practice for the last two weeks. Monet wouldn’t get that they hadn’t been on a date, that they hadn’t done… things. Her friend had other ideas about dating. But this wasn’t dating. Not really.

  “You’re seeing him, aren’t you?” The grin Monet sported soured Jamie’s stomach.

  “No, I mean—we’re not dating.”

  “But that’s where you’ve rushed off to instead of joining us at the Yankee Grill, right?” Monet looked at something behind Jamie. “With a hunk like that, I can understand.”

  Over her shoulder, Jamie saw Sean talking with Martin. A strange fluttering erupted in her belly. But she wasn’t sure if it was the sight of Sean or the fact he was talking to Martin. “Catch you later, girl.”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said absently as she turned toward Sean, who now strode in her direction. “What are you doing here?”

  Hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, Sean shrugged. “How was practice?”

  “Painful as always. I think I’ll need to soak my feet extra long tonight.” Her gaze tripped over Martin, who had a curious expression that Jamie couldn’t quite make out. “What… what were you doing talking to Martin?”

  “He wanted to know what I was doing messing with his prize pupil.”

  She groaned.

  Sean chuckled. “Seems I’m distracting you.”

  Martin told him that? Jamie wanted to crawl into the manhole she’d just walked over. Her gaze hit his, and she was swept into the squall of those Mediterranean-blue eyes.

  They strolled down the street, the November air chilling as Thanksgiving neared. Their troupe would perform a few times right before Christmas, which was the reason for Martin’s rude behavior. Of course, Martin was all about dance and not much else.

  Two more cross streets and stoplights and they’d enter Central Park, which had somehow become “their place.” Or at least, it had to her. Sean proved impossible to read, so she wasn’t sure what he thought of her, but she hoped their friendship would grow into something… more.

  “Do you plan to go to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade?”

  He poked the button for the final crosswalk. “Nah. Crowds, noise—not a good combination.”

  “Me, too.” She didn’t like the crowds, but she knew they had a worse impact on Sean. What was it like for him to live in fear of another shutdown from the TBI? Handsome, strong, with a killer smile, the guy had more wit and intelligence than most men she knew. But he rarely let anyone see it. She adored his quiet strength, his stoic mannerisms. A complete opposite from her tendency to be outspoken and opinionated. Which is why she found herself biting her tongue right now. He looked conflicted about something.

  The light flicked green with the twenty-second countdown. Jamie stepped off the curb into the flow of foot traffic. A man on a bike whizzed toward them. Sean reached toward her, guiding her by the elbow, then his touch trailed down her arm and entwined with her fingers as they entered the park.

  Jamie’s heart rapid-fired. She had to force herself not to gasp or tense. The questions that had plagued her over the last ten days were answered. Warm and large, his hold was tight. As if he was afraid to let her go. Or maybe he was afraid she would let go.

  She eased into their walk, determined to relish the moment, the crisp wind, the stars blinking overhead—mostly blotted by the lights of the city—and savor that she was with Sean Wolfe. Touching her ballet slipper necklace reminded her of their dialogue.

  “Have you talked with your aunt yet about the pendant?”

  “Well, yes and no.”

  She wrinkled her nose and waited for him to explain.

  “It is the same one, and I asked how she got it, but she wouldn’t talk to me—in fact, she walked out, leaving the meal she was making, which is huge because she considers herself an amateur Paula Deen.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “She has avoided me ever since.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Whatever it is, she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If that’s the coin, then she has to know Gail or what happened to her. You’ve got to ask her.”

  “No,” he said, “I don’t. She asked me to leave it alone, and I’m going to.”

  “Are you—but, you can’t!”

  “A Wolfe never goes back on his word.” Sean’s intensity told her he wouldn’t back down, but she couldn’t accept that. “Besides, if you knew my godmother, if you knew how strong and resilient she was—to see her fall apart like that”—he shook his head—“I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

  “Sean, what if she knows Gail? What if—”

  “Jamie, if and when she’s ready to talk, I’ll listen. But I won’t push or force it.” He came around and faced her. “Listen, I get how much you want to find Gail, but I have to give her room. She gave me the space I needed after I returned and wanted nothing more than to die.”

  Grief and anxiety over Gail faded as Sean’s words sank into her psyche. Jamie locked onto his gorgeous eyes, her heart aching f
or him. “You wanted to die? Why?”

  “I grew up being told I was worthless, the cause of everything bad. Then after my team gets hit, and they die but I don’t… I wanted nothing more than to not be here. It all felt like a cruel joke—God kept me here just to remind me I was pointless.”

  Though he snorted, she heard the pain behind those words.

  “Sean.” Her throat felt raw. “You are not pointless. In fact, you’re very important.”

  Sean’s brow knotted. His expression changed. Nosedived from pained to intense. The look told her something in him had shifted, his thoughts bounding from his aunt to…

  Oh, she didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to get her hopes up. But that prayer. God had brought Sean to the bridge, hadn’t He?

  “Jamie…” His gaze bounced over her face. He touched her cheek. “Do I distract you, like Martin said?”

  A bubble of nervous laughter trickled past her stunned mind. Her pulse whooshed in her ears. Thank goodness he couldn’t see the crimson color filling her cheeks due to the late hour and less-than-adequate light in the park. She wanted to lie, wanted to say she didn’t know what he was talking about, but the prayer two weeks ago and his showing up told her she couldn’t lie to him. The whole beginning to their relationship had been different, hard.

  “I need to know, Jamie.” His shoes scratched on the sidewalk as he inched closer. “I can’t go through it again.”

  “Go through what?”

  He let go of her hand and started walking. “Right before the IED, I got a Dear John letter from my fiancée. She didn’t want to wait for me, didn’t want to be a military wife.” He huffed. “It was just excuses. She had already hooked up with one of my friends. I realized what she didn’t want was me.”

  “Her loss.”

  He stopped, staring at the path. Then at her. “I like you. A lot. But I can’t…” He swallowed and looked away. “I can’t do that again.”

  “I honestly don’t know what to say. I can’t see the future, Sean. What I do know, what I can see, is that I like you.” Whoa. That was a heady thing to say. “I want to be there for you.”

  “What, am I your new project?”