by Amy Vastine
“It’s nearly ten o’clock…”
Nodding, Jase prepared himself to set his disappointment aside and agree with her. And then she turned to face him.
“It is a nice night. How about if instead of a drive, we go back to the inn. My folks will be out until at least midnight—they had tickets to a play at the Hippodrome after supper with the Sams, and planned to stop for ice cream after that—so we’d have the gazebo all to ourselves.”
That beat the alternative by a long shot.
“We’ve got cheese and crackers. Chips and salsa, too. And this morning, I made lemonade. Fresh squeezed!”
“I couldn’t eat another bite, but who could say no to your fresh-squeezed lemonade?” As if he needed an enticement.
Her smile, illuminated by the green glow of the dashboard dials, touched a long-forgotten place inside him, a place he wasn’t sure he wanted to fully expose to the light. At least, not yet.
He smiled, too, as she talked about the clouds that had moved in, as she hoped forecasters had been wrong, because she’d just dusted the roses with insecticide, “…and that stuff is expensive!”
Minutes later, he waited patiently as she searched her tote bag for her keys. For as long as he’d known her, Lillie had carried enormous purses. A smaller pocketbook would be easier to carry, he’d once suggested. Her reply? Right. And then where would you be if you needed a tissue. An aspirin. A bandage. The memory made him grin. He’d dubbed her Ready for Anything Lillie, and she’d liked it!
She hung the enormous purse on a peg near the door, and Jase snickered to himself, hoping it wouldn’t pull down the whole wall.
“Let’s grab our drinks before we go out back,” she said, leading the way down the hall.
The inn was dark and quiet, except for the small lamp on the foyer table and another beckoning to them from somewhere in the kitchen. He liked the way she looked, silhouetted by the light.
He watched as she puttered around the kitchen, finding tumblers, adding ice, pouring their drinks. He considered offering to help, but that would mean taking his eyes off her. It worried him a little, recognizing how much he liked watching her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, wiping down the counter.
“Nothing. Why?”
She handed him a glass. “You look…concerned.” And she’d looked concerned as she said it.
He had to think fast, because if he admitted the truth, Jase risked having her wonder if he’d taken up peeping-Tommery as a pastime.
“You, uh, you think it’s a good idea, leaving your purse out in the open that way?”
Lillie glanced toward the foyer. “I’ve been putting it there for…” She paused, as if trying to focus on a specific date. “Since I was old enough to carry a purse.”
The image of a knee-high Lillie, hauling around a bag that could have held her, inspired a smile.
“But the door isn’t even locked. You’re not worried someone will waltz right in and grab it?”
Lillie faked a frown and made her way back to the entryway. “Well I am now,” she said, flipping the bolt into place. “Better?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
He followed close on her heels as she opened the French doors and, as an afterthought, reached into a drawer for a box of kitchen matches. Lillie handed him her drink and proceeded to light the votive candles on the coffee table, on the railings, even hanging from fishing line, attached to the ceiling. They flickered in multicolored glass candleholders, reminding him how the city lights looked when he was on a night flight. Their glow shimmered from every auburn-colored strand of her hair, too.
Jase chose one end of the love seat and waited for Lillie to settle onto one of two matching chairs that flanked it. Instead, she plopped down beside him and placed her drink on the glass-topped table.
“Need a cushion behind your back?” she asked, kicking off her sandals.
Her toenails gleamed with pink polish that exactly matched the rosebuds decorating her sundress. He noticed her fingernails boasted the same shade. Her left hand was splayed across the cushion between them, making him intensely aware of the twelve inches separating them. Jase fought the desire to grab that hand and pull her closer, reducing the distance to zero.
A train whistled in the distance, its forlorn notes harmonizing with the chirrup of night birds and tree frogs.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she said.
“Wait…what?” He tuned out night sounds and studied her face. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, not far. But I’ve saved up enough to get my own place. Finally.”
“Yeah? Where?”
She laughed. “I haven’t even started looking at ads yet. The goal is to find someplace close, so I can keep walking to and from work.”
“You’ll hold on to both jobs, then?”
“Have to. For the time being anyway.”
Was she ready for that much independence? Especially so soon after the emotional blow of losing the little boy she’d been so fond of? Jase pictured the sidebar of the article he’d read in The Addictive Mind magazine, featuring a quote from a well-known actor: “Finding sobriety was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” The star had been in rehab…and relapsed half a dozen times.
“Why not just stay here?” he asked. “I’m sure your folks love having you.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You aren’t implying that as long as I’m here, they can keep an eye on me, to make sure I’m not using, are you?”
Jase bristled a bit before saying, “No! ’Course not. But since you brought it up, why put all that pressure on yourself so soon after coming home? Why not give it another couple months?”
Now her lips narrowed, too. “I appreciate the concern, and how hard it must be for you to buy into this, but I’m handling things well. Fully adjusted, as they say. I don’t like to advertise it, but I attend meetings every day. Every day. Talk with my sponsor at least twice a week. I have a lot to prove, which is one of the reasons I don’t broadcast my attendance at meetings. You’ll just have to trust me when I say I’m fine. And I’m going to stay that way.” She leaned back and crossed both arms over her chest. “I’ll do it all on my own, of course, but it’ll be easier if people like you at least pretend to have some faith in me.”
He’d rarely seen her angry, but he recognized the signs: stiff back, shoulders tight, chin lifted…
“I’m sorry. You’ve worked hard to get where you are, and I respect that. I didn’t mean to insult you.” Left hand resting atop hers, he raised the right. “Honest.”
She exhaled a long, soft breath. “I know. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“No way. You didn’t do anything.” Except sit there looking vulnerable…and gorgeous and 100 percent kissable.
She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I get it. And I don’t blame anyone for being apprehensive. I did a lot of awful things, things that hurt a lot of people. I can’t expect anyone to just forget about all those disappointments.” Her shoulders rose, then fell. “It’s going to take time. I’ve changed, but how do they know that, right?” Another sigh, and then, “I just need to be more patient. I owe everyone that, and then some.”
She’d hit on every point of concern he had. And she was right. The people closest to her needed to show her that they believed she’d beat addiction, permanently.
“You don’t owe anybody anything, except to keep right on being you.”
With no warning whatever, Lillie jumped up and hurried toward the walkway that connected the gazebo to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back!”
Jase didn’t think he’d said anything that might have inspired tears, but then, what he knew about coping with a former addict could fit in one hand. He thought about going after her but decided she’d earned a moment or two of privacy to gather her thoughts, to collect herself.
But which comment, specifically, had inspired her hasty departure? Jase honestly couldn’t say, but one thing was certain…if he wanted to keep seeing her, he needed to stop referencing her drug abuse.
Did he have what it took to support the new-and-improved Lillie? To believe she’d changed? During those first lonely months without her, he’d read up on addiction. The one thing that stood out was that months of taking prescription painkillers—and substitutes when they were no longer available—had altered her brain chemistry. That fact alone explained the futility of blaming weakness or willfulness for the stubborn drive to stay high.
He’d read about recovery, too, and from what he recalled, it appeared that Lillie was doing everything right. Without intending to, he’d put himself smack in the middle of a quandary: Stay with her, and prove he was on her side, or fade into the background, and hope she wouldn’t read it as abandonment?
Lillie burst into the gazebo, breathless, smiling, and carrying a package the size of a trade paperback. So. She hadn’t run off in a huff to whimper and stroke hurt feelings, after all.
“I was going to wait to give this to you,” she said, returning to his side.
“It isn’t my birthday, so…”
“I know that. Just open it, okay?”
Jase untied the white satin bow, then removed pale blue paper.
“Omigarsh! I’d forgotten how you like to take forever, opening gifts!”
He did his best to look offended. “I like to savor moments like this.”
She gathered up the ribbon and wrapper as he held up a plaque of some sort. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her signature in the lower right corner. Tilting it for a better look, Jase saw that she’d whitewashed a half-inch-thick slab of wood. Tastefully arranged in tidy, hand-painted letters, he read.
“I’m sorry” is an empty statement;
“I won’t do it again” was a broken promise;
How I’ll make it up to you is my responsibility.
A mix of relief, affection and pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. Jase swallowed. “Lillie,” he said, facing her, “this is…it’s gorgeous. But, but when did you have time to make it, holding down two jobs, volunteering at the hospital, helping out around here?”
One corner of her mouth lifted in a tiny grin. “I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
His forefingers brushed something on the back, so he turned it over. “What’s this?” he said, inspecting an envelope, taped to the wood.
To Jase, it read, with much gratitude and fondness.
Jase peeled it off and, after carefully placing the plaque on the table, broke the seal. Inside, wrapped in a sheet of pale blue paper, was a check, made out to him.
“No way,” he said, his voice foggy and low. She’d been saving to get her own place. A car. How much longer would she have to wait, because of this?
“You don’t need to do this. I…I can’t take this…”
He tried to hand it to her, but she held up both hands. “You can, and you will. It’s everything I… Everything I took. Plus interest.”
“But you worked so hard to dig out from under. Take it,” he tried again, “and put it toward a down payment on a car or rent or something.”
“I have enough for a car.”
She looked so proud that he nearly gave in to the urge to hug her.
“I just haven’t had time to shop for one.”
He fixed his gaze on the check again. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” She relieved him of the check, folded it in half, and slid it into his shirt pocket. Patting it, Lillie said, “You’ve heard of do-overs. Let’s just call it that, and put everything else in the past.”
Jase picked up the plaque. Reread what it said.
“Don’t put it someplace where you’ll see it every day.”
“Why not? It’s beautiful.”
“It’ll only remind you of…” The shoulder lifted again. “You know…”
Nodding, Jase clumsily rewrapped it, put it back on the table. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Lillie looked at some unknown spot on the other side of the gazebo’s screens. Oh, what he’d give to read her thoughts right now.
“You didn’t have to do this.” And before she could disagree, Jase placed a silencing forefinger over her lips. “I understand why you did it. So I’m not going to insist that you take back the money. I just want you to know I never considered it a debt. Not ever. Not even for a minute.”
“I know that. I always knew it. Which is exactly why I needed to make things right. I hated taking advantage of your generosity, and destroying your opinion of me in the process. Hated it.”
He studied her face, her big eyes and stunning, expressive features, then grasped her hand, guided it up and down, side to side.
Her quiet laughter soothed him.
“What’re you doing, you big goof?”
“Erasing the board. It’s blank now. There’s nothing on it.”
Although tears shimmered in her eyes, Lillie smiled. “Need me to freshen your drink? The ice has probably melted, watered it down.”
“Everything I need,” he admitted, “is right here.” He slid an arm behind her, pulled her closer still, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“You say the slate is clean,” Lillie said, “but I need to tell you something.”
He didn’t want to hear that she’d keep working to earn back his trust and respect. She had that…for the most part. All he wanted now was to encourage her to stay on this path, for her sake and his.
“I’m still so ashamed,” she whispered. “That’ll pass in time, I hope, but I never want to forget what caused it. Remembering, that’s what will ensure I’ll never make the same mistakes again.”
“Shh. You’re cluttering up our clean board.”
He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling.
“One reason I’m ashamed…”
Jase opened his mouth to remind her that whatever it was belonged in the past.
“…is working with those kids. Seeing how they cope with incredible pain, every minute of every day. What I went through after the crash can’t compare to what they’re going through. And yet they tough it out, like the little champs they are, rarely complaining, never whining. If I’d had a tenth of their strength, I wouldn’t have put everyone through—”
“Let’s not forget that you went through it, too. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“You’re sweet to say that, but there’s no such thing. We both know that.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind. I’m just relieved things turned out the way they did.”
“And I’m glad that despite everything, we’re still friends.”
Jase felt the same way. But he wanted more than friendship. So much more.
The knot in his throat prevented him from admitting it, so he told her with a kiss, instead.
And thankfully, she melted like snow on a sunny spring afternoon.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE DAY BEFORE yesterday when he’d set up this meeting, Jase had felt anything but positive. Carl Daniels had never been an easy man to work with, particularly when he had the upper hand.
Colette’s Crafts had grown to the point of needing a second manufacturer. He’d gladly throw all their orders to the Burton company, but his mom’s business wasn’t their only account. With any luck, lunch at the five-star Capital Grille would butter Daniels up just enough to inspire some mutually beneficial contract talk.
Jase asked for two orders of shrimp cocktail and listened patiently while Daniels went on and on about the case of pinot noir given to him by another client.
“It delights the palate,” he said, “while layers of sandalwood and sassafras add intensity and depth
. You really should try some. They serve it here.”
“Maybe some other time,” Jase said. “I have to work this afternoon.” And I need a clear head to deal with the likes of you!
“I’ll order it, then, and enjoy it enough for both of us.”
Jase sat back, unfazed by the man’s pretentiousness. Thanks to the mood Lillie had set last night, it was surprisingly easy to endure Daniels’s pomposity, to allow him to push the envelope by ordering sliced filet Oscar with lump crab and Béarnaise sauce—the most expensive item on the menu. An old French proverb came to mind: “Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.” Sometime during dessert and coffee—and Daniels’s insistence on filling his wineglass—Jase had opened the subject of what Daniels Fabrication could do for his mother’s company. Suitably sated, the CEO might just be more flexible than normal.
Between the salad and main course, Carl excused himself to take a call. And as he stepped away from the table, Brant Perry walked up.
“Jase,” he said, “how goes it.”
Accepting the offered hand, Jase invited him to sit.
“Just for a minute.” Brant glanced at his wristwatch. “Meeting a business associate in a few.” He nodded at the empty chair across from him. “I see you’re doing the same.” Brant got real serious, real quick. “Tell me, what do you think of the deal I offered Lillie?”
Jase had just lifted the coffee cup to his lips, which spared him having to reply.
“She’s the whole package, voice, looks, personality. I just know my guy out of Nashville plans to spend a couple weeks in Charm City, soon. I know I told her to take her time making a decision, but he’s chompin’ at the bit to meet her. Like I told Lillie, the guy’s a pro, and honest as the day is long. He’ll take her through the whole process, from choosing material to recording and going on tour to market the stuff.”
Jase froze. This was potentially life-changing news. Why hadn’t she told him about it?
It was her life. Clean slate and all that. What she did and who she saw wasn’t any of his business. It shouldn’t matter that she’d chosen to keep the information to herself.