A Fine Balance

by Susan Johnson

“Wait and see.”

  He laughed. “I think I can handle any of your complaints.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.”

  He gave her a wicked grin. “Anytime.”

  She groaned. “It’s impossible to be alone.” Jillian was working in Philo because Leslie had a spectacular sewing machine she’d used when the children were young. And with the challenging time constraints for the wedding arrangements, Jack’s mother had assembled an army of helpers so the house and grounds were bustling with activity from morning to night.

  “In a few more days we’ll be in Venice away from this maddening crowd,” Jack said.

  “Thank God. The thought of Venice keeps me sane.”

  “Did I mention I hired two nannies to entertain the children?”

  Her expression sobered. “We can’t abandon the children.”

  “I know that. We’ll take off a few hours now and then.”

  She winked. “For sure the nights are ours.”

  “It’s up to you.”

  “I see that smirk. What did you tell the nannies?”

  “I told them they’re in charge of the boys after nine pm and unless there’s blood on the floor, they’re not to summon us. Some nights we’ll go out for dinner, other nights we’ll stay home, either way, it’s just you and me. How’s that sound?”

  “It sounds as though I’m going to be the happiest camper in the universe.”

  “The palazzo’s not exactly camping. Although if you’d like we could improvise.”

  “Palazzo?”

  “It’s small.”

  “I’m sorry, palazzos aren’t small.”

  “We could stay at a hotel. I’d prefer my own place but it’s up to you.”

  “Holy Moly!” She sat back and stared at him. “How freaking rich are you?”

  “I have enough.”

  “Crap. Now I have to sign a pre-nup.”

  “Don’t start,” he growled.

  She’d gone a little pale. “I’m not going to fit into your affluent world. Seriously, I’m not.”

  “Course you will. You see how I live. Same as everyone.”

  “Except for—palazzos and jeez what else? Your ocean front house, your fancy car, a family vineyard for God’s sake.”

  “Vineyards go broke every week.”

  “Your mom said yours is sixty years old.”

  He shrugged. “You get a couple bad years it’s over. Look, whether you have money or not it doesn’t buy happiness. I can attest to that. So you’re trying to convince the wrong guy that wealth matters. Don’t get me wrong. You need a roof over your head, food, enough to pay the basic bills, but beyond that, a helluva lot of research shows happiness isn’t related to income. So if that’s what you want to argue you’re gonna fucking lose, babe.”

  He never called her babe. And certainly not in that tone. “Now I’ve made you angry.”

  He softly sighed. “No. I just want you to understand that I never thought I’d find someone like you, never imagined I could fall in love, didn’t have a clue it was possible to love someone so deeply. I thought people who believed in love were delusional. So.” He took a small breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but talking about money is meaningless when all I care about is being with you, loving you, making you happy.” A faint smile. “Zeke and Luis, too.”

  “I get all that I really do because I’m head-over-heels, dreams- really-come-true in love with you. You’re the best, officially perfect, okay? So, don’t take this the wrong way,” she added, mimicking him with a flicker of a grin, “but if you really don’t care about money, let me sign a pre-nup. I’d feel better.”

  “Sure, why not? Wade can take care of it.” Both indirect statements, half-truths—okay, lies. But if something happened to him, he wanted Jillian to have his money. God knew his family didn’t need it. God knew even better that she did.

  As for him lying, it was incidental. Working in undercover, he’d seen the cruel underbelly of the world where dog eat dog was a principle of life, where the innocent and blameless died for no reason, where bad people did barbarous things because they could; he knew the fucking difference when it came to lies. “Now if we’re done arguing, can I talk you into quitting for the day? It’s five o’clock. Let’s grab a bottle of wine, go to the rose garden, lie on the grass and contemplate the workings of the universe.”

  “Sure. I’ll take the ribbon along and do some hand sewing on the bows while we’re sitting there.”

  He looked amused. “Goddamn, a real live Cinderella. We have people here who can help you know. You don’t have to do it all yourself.”

  She gave him her cool schoolteacher look that dissuaded bad behavior.

  “That’s cute.” He tried to suppress his grin, didn’t succeed, broke out laughing. “Sorry,” he said a moment later, still chuckling. “But you’re so damned domestic. I’m not used to it.”

  “I know,” she said, sweetly. “Online gossip suggested as much.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We need to delete that shit.”

  “Don’t look at me. Ask Ray to help.”

  “What would really help is if you’d forget that online crap. I won’t complain about your hours of sewing if you could pretend you never saw that bullshit. Deal?”

  “Okay.” She picked up a pile of pale green embroidered ribbon from a table next to the chair and handed it to him. “Roll that up. I’ll get a basket to put it in.”

  He gave her a squinty eyed look. “You like giving me trouble?”

  “Sure do.”

  He tried to look wounded but the corner of his mouth kept ticking up. Dipping his head, he kissed her grin, then leaned back, one brow raised. “So I get the wine, you get your sewing and we’ll watch the sunset?”

  She wondered if she’d ever be able to say no to him, like really say no when she loved him so hugely. When he was watching her with a sexy-as-sin smile that was making her melt inside. When he was more beautiful than any masterpiece ever created, when his inked arms reminded her of primal adornment and an incredible courage. Seriously, bamboo picks?

  His fingers slid down her back in the lightest of touches. “Whadda you think?”

  As if he didn’t know that adoring look in a woman’s eyes. “You’re way too gorgeous, that’s what I think.”

  “Not even close when it comes to your gorgeous, Jilly-bean.” He grimaced. “And that’s gonna be a fucking problem. I’ve never been crazy jealous before and now I am. It sucks. Come on, I need a drink.” Rising from the chair without regard for the ribbon in his hand, he set her on her feet.

  His disclosure was weirdly endearing when she should know better. Jealousy could be dicey, enigmatic, the opposite of endearing when it was male chauvinism in action, or when it generated calls to the police at three in the morning. Then again, she’d never been jealous before either so she understood the positive quality of the emotion. “I’m jealous too, so you’re not alone.”

  “Yeah I am,” he said, a little cranky.

  “Why is your jealousy different from mine?”

  “It just is. Do you mind not arguing every fucking minute?” He held up a handful of crushed ribbon. “Where’s that goddamn basket you need. I’d like to go.”

  His jaw was clenched, a tick flickering under his stubble. “Forget the sewing,” Jillian said. “You’re right. I should relax.”

  He grunted, downshifted into polite and left the pile of crazy behind. “You sure? I didn’t mean to bite your head off. I can wait.”

  She stood on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. “I worked long enough today. What wine are you going to open?”

  He grabbed her hand and strode toward the door. “A Reserve Cab from our first year in business”—he turned back and smiled a smile that could have lit the darkness for eternity—“for the love of my life.”

  Chapter 55

  Jack was scheduled to meet with Morrie. Before he left, he stopped by the sewing room to say goodbye.

  Christ, was Jillian cryin
g? He tried the door. Locked. He rapped softly. “Hey, let me in.”

  “Go away!”

  Ok-ay. That sounded like trouble. But no one was shooting at him so how bad could it be? “Come on, open the door. Tell me what’s wrong. I can help.”

  No answer.

  He debated kicking in the door, but was afraid of drawing a crowd. So he went to Wade’s old room next door, walked across to the windows and raised the lower sash on one of them. Ducking his head, he stepped through the opening onto the back porch roof, and a dozen steps later, peered through the window of the sewing room.

  Ah, fuck.

  Jillian was lying on the floor face down in a cloud of lace and tulle, sobbing hysterically.

  For a fraction of a second he was at a loss. Weeping women were a curiosity in his world, like an exotic plant he’d only seen in pictures. He didn’t know shit about them. But he had to do something.

  Running his hands over his face, he took a deep breath, then shoving the window up, he dropped quietly into the room. He didn’t want to startle her; he needn’t have worried.

  She had her face in her arms and was crying uncontrollably.

  Moving to where she lay, he pushed aside a heap of white lace, and sat down. Having been raised with young children, he knew how to placate an unhappy child: a toy or sweet, the promise of his undivided attention in some play activity. As for the other females he’d known—well…that wasn’t going to work here. “What happened? Come on, tell me.” He spoke loud enough to be heard above her wild weeping.

  She stopped mid-sob, instantly sat up and blinked. “Jesus, where’d you come from?”

  He pointed at the window. “So what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” She rubbed her wet cheeks with her knuckles. “Nerves. I’m good now.”

  “Like hell. What’s up?”

  She blew out a breath. “If you must know, I was getting jitters, not sure…” Her voice trailed off.

  His adrenaline spiked. Was she calling off the wedding? “Not sure of what?” he asked softly.

  “All the wedding stuff. Everything’s moving a million miles an hour.” She paused, looked away. “It’s kinda overwhelming.”

  He turned her face back with the tip of a finger and smiled. “Then we’ll slow it down.”

  “There’s something else too,” she said in a rush, like she might not say it otherwise.

  He felt every muscle tense. “Yeah? What?”

  She was absolutely still for a moment, then blurted out, “I’m afraid of repeating the mistake I made last time when I married in a rush.”

  Christ, this was about her dickhead husband who’d left her pregnant and alone with a dying mother to care for. Fucker. Even dead he was making Jillian miserable. “I’m not him,” Jack said. “It’s not the same. Look,” he added, gently, “I can’t pretend to understand what happened before, but I promise I’ll never leave you, I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you, Zeke, or Luis; I’ll protect you if that’s what you want although maybe that’s not PC anymore.” Something moved across her tear-stained face that looked like a very faint smile. “Not that I worry a lot about PC.” He took a chance with a smile of his own. “Just wanted you to know.”

  A real smile in return, then a little sigh. “Sorry about the drama. And yes to everything you said, although I feel like a real throwback to the past even admitting that I’d like you to protect me once and a while. Oh, hell, scratch that.”

  “Life gets messy sometimes. It’s okay to take a little help.”

  Grabbing the front of his t-shirt, she wiped her cheeks on Bob Marley’s dreads, sat back, took a breath, swallowed, then said with a snap in her voice, “He was a selfish, inconsiderate bastard.”

  Jack went still. He didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, quietly, understanding all this emotional tumult wasn’t entirely about the pace of the wedding plans.

  “I was young and gullible.” Her lip curled a little. “More like stupid.”

  “Everyone is when they’re young. One learns.”

  “Yeah.” Her chin came up, a cool intentness entered her eyes as she examined those old memories, then she blew out a breath and said, “It took a while before I noticed Ben’s priorities were himself, himself and himself. And a while more before I realized he was looking for someone to take care of him.” Her gaze refocused on Jack, her voice sharpened. “Talk about blowing up my rose-tinted view of marriage, right?”

  “Don’t ask me about marriage. Mine was insanity.”

  “Oh, shit.” Her face fell. “Do you suppose we’re co-dependent? Two people from bad marriages on the same life raft?”

  “Fuck co-dependency,” Jack said flatly. “What you and I have is a once-in-a-lifetime miracle, a million to one long shot, pick whatever impossible bet you want. That’s us.”

  Her eyes were huge. “So I shouldn’t worry about rushing into marriage?”

  “Not to me,” he said with such simplicity the breath went out of her in an amazed little laugh. After a moment, still breathless, she whispered, “Thanks.”

  He nodded as if he understood the complicated subtext in that single word and winding one of her curls around his finger, he pulled her face close. “We’re going to be happy, you and I. This wedding craziness will be over soon and then it’s just the boys and us. And whenever something bothers you, tell me and I’ll deal with it or we’ll deal with it or whatever the fuck needs to be done, we’ll do.”

  She knew he meant every word. No BS, no nuance; he’d do it. “I’d like that. I’ve been on my own a long time, taking care of everything and everyone myself.” Her voice wavered just a touch, then she sighed an enormous shaky sigh. “It’s nice to have a partner. It’s even nicer to have someone to love.”

  Blinded by the urge to hurt everyone who’d ever hurt her, Jack managed to keep the anger out of his voice by sheer will. “I’m glad we found each other,” he said, thinking he should have gotten there a couple years earlier. “From now on, life’s gonna be grand. In fact,” he said, wanting to move on to less dicey subjects, “let me help with some of the wedding pressures. There must be easy stuff I could sew on your gown.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You sew?”

  He shrugged. “I can learn.”

  “You don’t have to. Just come and talk to me once and a while,” she said, smiling brightly. “Thanks to you, I’m a functioning adult again.” Jillian brushed her palms together. “See? Anxieties gone. Now you better go. Morrie’s waiting for you.”

  “I’ll tell him I’m learning to sew. That’ll make his day. Consider me your new assistant,” Jack said.

  “You’ll get fired.”

  “If I’m lucky.”

  She made a moue. “God, I’m going to sound like a cliché, but you’re not supposed to see my dress.”

  He gave her a dubious look. “No offense, but that’s stupid. I’ll just pretend I never saw the dress until you walk down the aisle.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Really, we’re having an aisle?”

  “Last I heard. This is going to be a major Hollywood production. My mom’s in seventh heaven; roses everywhere, an orchestra, a band, a cast of thousands, including all my brothers and sisters. Mom’s having some kind of altar built. Don’t ask me why. Maybe she’s been watching too much Game of Thrones. Anyway, you have your dream dress, mom has her dream wedding and best of all I have my dream girl. And,” he added, softly, his smile rich with amusement, “in case you haven’t noticed I don’t take instructions well. So not only will I learn to sew, but I’ll be seeing your dress every day until you finish it. What do you think of that?”

  She grinned. “I think maybe we should bring a sofa in here.”

  “There you go. Critical thinking in action. Let me give Morrie a call and I’ll be right back with a sofa.” He gave her a grin. “Happy?”

  “I heart you,” she said, giving him his grin back.

  He glanced at the clock on th
e wall. “Be back in five.”

  The conversation with Morrie was predictable. After the sheriff stopped laughing, he said, “You know I can’t possibly keep this to myself. You sewing a wedding gown? Be still my beating heart.”

  “I’m glad you’re amused,” Jack drawled. “And if not for your knuckle dragging nephew I wouldn’t care if you broadcast it to the world. But he’ll be his usual asshole self about it, I’ll have to finally beat him to a pulp and you know the dick head would sue. So you see my dilemma. And if you need added incentive to keep this to yourself, I know you don’t wear that Revolutionary outfit just for battle reenactments.”

  “The hell you doing?” Morrie growled. “Looking in windows?”

  “I have a shrewd deductive mind. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “I should fire you.”

  Morrie’s threat was meaningless and they both knew it.

  “See you at the wedding, Boss. Tell Lily there’s dancing. And tell her hi from Mom.”

  Jack actually did learn to sew the less difficult portions of the dress. With forty yards of skirt, there were plenty of straight seams; his hand/eye coordination and fast twitch muscles came in handy for more than firearms.

  His mom took pictures.

  His brothers teased him.

  He smiled politely for his mother, told his brothers to fuck off, but took it all in stride because Jillian was happy.

  So he was happy.

  Chapter 56

  When Jillian received the letter from Todd, ecstatic didn’t begin to describe her feelings.

  “Can you believe it?” she squealed one morning, waving the letter at Jack. “I got the job! I even have my old classroom back!”

  “You said the budgets were getting better, didn’t you? This proves it. I’m so pleased for you.” Leaning over he kissed her smile. “Good work, Jilly-bean. You didn’t give up.” Her joy was worth every penny the gym remodel would cost.

  He was equally pleased that the dinner with Liz turned out to be super friendly. In fact, he and the two boys wandered off after dessert when the women began discussing obstinate husbands with the cozy familiarity of intimate friends.