From Now On

by Louise Brooks

  “I was one of the lucky ones. Never injured.” He paused his hands on the keyboard, his head tilting slightly as he studied something on the monitor. “It was a family thing. After my first deployment to Afghanistan, my wife gave me a choice: the Army or her.”

  “Oh,” Jo mumbled, disappointed at his confirmation of what she had already guessed. He was married.

  He was quiet for a minute and Jo turned again to stare out at the city, but she didn’t really seeing anything. That was always the way. Whenever she met a guy she really liked, either he was already in a relationship or he was more interested in glamour and sophistication.

  Disappointed as she was, she was still curious. So she asked quietly, “Do you have kids?”

  “Two. Missy is eight and Dillon is five.”

  There was pride in his voice. Jo could imagine him showing pictures to all his coworkers down in IT with a proud story for each. For some reason, the idea didn’t seem all that out of character to Jo. Mark struck her as the type to pledge to a lifetime of faithfulness and responsibility.

  Too bad, Jo thought. He was everything she had ever imagined for herself.

  “Okay, I think I got it,” Mark said suddenly.

  Jo moved behind her desk and was relieved to see the report she had been working on back and functioning on her computer screen. “Oh, wow, thank you,” she gushed.

  “No problem.” Mark pointed to a couple of keys on her keyboard. “The next time it happens, push these all together. This box will appear and just click this,” he pointed to the screen, “and it should fix the problem.”

  “Okay,” she said, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at the dialogue box. “They tell us not to try to fix things ourselves, so I didn’t think—”

  “It’ll save you some aggravation with these old machines.” Mark stood, causing them to suddenly be close enough to touch. “But I’ll be happy to come back anytime.”

  Jo smiled, suddenly feeling brave with him so close. “I’ll be sure to ask for you specifically,” she said with what she hoped was a light, flirty tone.

  “For you, I will take that as an honor.”

  Mark touched her cheek lightly, brushing a loose curl that had escaped her braid from her face. She looked up at him, afraid to move in fear that she might fall forward. She was suddenly dizzy as she looked into his eyes and thought she saw a longing not unlike her own. Her hands shook. She pressed them against her chest, unsure where else to put them. In the back of her mind, she knew he was married, knew he was just being friendly. Yet there was something about his touch, about the soft smile on his lips. Hope bloomed in her chest despite everything. And when his thumb brushed across her chin, reality just seemed to fall away.

  He cupped her jaw in his hand, lifting her face higher to force her to look at him as he might have done to a child. “Don’t let them hurt you with their junior high antics. They are just unhappy people who get pleasure from hurting someone else. Don’t give them that power.”

  Tears briefly flooded Jo’s eyes. “I won’t,” she whispered.

  Then he was gone and Jo was left wondering if she had simply imagined the whole thing.

  Chapter 4

  She was late.

  Jo rushed into the restaurant, fifteen minutes late, and charged into the private room where the party was set to take place in less than an hour.

  “I am so sorry,” she told Ryan as she dropped her bag and rushed to join him in unpacking the decorations.

  “Kathleen give you a hard time about leaving?”

  “No. My computer crashed again.”

  “They still haven’t updated the equipment?”

  “I don’t think they ever intend to. It costs too much.”

  Ryan shook his head. “It would save them millions a year if they weren’t paying their employees to sit around and wait for IT.”

  “Tell them that,” Jo sighed. “Lord knows I’ve written enough reports on that exact issue.”

  “I know you have,” Ryan said.

  Jo turned away under his gaze and carefully lifted floral centerpieces that she and Emily had put together out of their boxes. They had held up well, she was pleased to notice. After removing the last one, she turned to Ryan to ask where he thought they would look best. He was still watching her, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “I guess we should put these on the refreshment table, right?” she asked, trying to ignore the heat his gaze caused to rise to her scalp. “Or maybe we could put one on the bar?”

  “I’m glad we have this time alone, Jo,” Ryan said quietly.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

  “I never really got a chance to tell you how sorry I am.”

  Jo turned her head, looking across the cavernous room, imagining how the centerpieces would look at each alternative site. “I think we should put one on the bar,” she said, in an awkward attempt at changing the subject.

  “Jo.” Ryan knew better. He knew what she was doing, but he was clearly determined to get out what he wanted to say. He laid his hands on her shoulders and made her turn. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  “I love Emily. I want you to know that, to know that I plan to make her very happy.”

  “I know that, too, Ryan.” Jo bit her lip, trying to keep it from quivering. He loves her, not me, she thought. That’s always the way it goes.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she muttered, staring down at her shoes instead of into his green eyes.

  “But I feel like I owe it to you.”

  “Well, you don’t.” Jo pulled away, crossing the room to place the centerpieces. When she turned to ask Ryan’s opinion, he was gone.

  Jo closed her eyes. Hurt that she had thought she had let go of was moving in waves through her body, beginning with a sickening feeling deep in her stomach and ending with the burn of tears in her eyes. It had only been a few dates. But it was hope. It was the possibility of a future. It was the way he made her feel on their first date, beginning with the bouquet of roses he brought to her apartment and ending with the feeling that she was the only woman alive as they dined in a deliciously expensive restaurant. She had never felt quite so pampered, so cherished, and nothing since had ever come close to compare.

  Except maybe the way Mark looked at her today.

  Jo smiled, remembering the heat of his hand on her cheek.

  But Mark was married. End of story.

  A familiar depression settled in Jo’s chest as she quickly unpacked the streamers and custom made posters with Emily and Ryan’s pictures on them. In a short time, the room was decorated and waiting for the festivities to begin. Jo stood back and looked at all her hard work—completed with just five minutes to spare—and found herself wondering if she would ever be the center of attention at such a function. Not that she dreamed of the huge, elaborate wedding Emily was busy planning. Just something simple, a little ceremony in a country church, an intimate ceremony between her and….but that was the problem, wasn’t it?

  Would Jo ever find someone who wanted her? Who wanted the same things she did?

  Chapter 5

  Music played quietly in the background, the murmur of a hundred voices rising and flowing around the room. Jo stood near the banquet tables, keeping an eye on the waiters as they kept the tiny finger sandwiches and vegetable dips in plentiful supply. A wine glass clutched in one hand and a smile plastered to her face, Jo did her best to keep guests mingling through the room. Not that anyone sought her out or wanted her help. But as the hostess of an engagement party to which the happy couple had yet to appear, it seemed like the only role she could play.

  “They should be here soon.”

  Jo turned, relieved to find her mother had finally arrived. “What’s keeping them?”

  Her mother shrugged her cashmere clad shoulders. “They’re young and in love. What do you think?”

  Jo sighed, taking a long swallow of her wine. Her mother
tapped the side of the glass, a warning look in her eyes. “Be careful,” she said.

  Laughter erupted in a group not too far from where Jo and her mother stood. Jo glanced over in that general direction, unable to keep from wondering if she was somehow the cause of that mirth. Paranoid, she thought to herself.

  “I need to mingle,” Jo’s mother said as she ran her hands over her hips, smoothing her too tight skirt against her flawless curves. “But I need to talk to you later. I might need a little extra this month. The rent is due and the electric bill is a little more than I thought—”

  “Mother, I already gave you the rent check this month.”

  A dark look came into her mother’s eyes, a look that Jo remembered avoiding at all costs when she was a little girl. “I have a lot of expenses, Jo. As Dolly Parton loves to say, it’s not cheap to look this cheap.” Then she walked off, a bright smile suddenly transforming her still beautiful face as she approached a group of Ryan’s college buddies.

  Again Jo sighed before taking another long swallow of her wine, emptying the glass. She was standing at the bar, waiting for a refill, when Emily walked in on Ryan’s arm. She took everyone’s breath away, even Jo’s.

  Emily’s naturally dark hair was curled and swept into a sophisticated French knot, a few tiny tendrils falling all around her face and neck in an old-fashioned style that only highlighted her aristocratic features. Her blue eyes sparkled out of her softly tanned face, matching the tiny flash of sapphires that twinkled at her ears and her throat. Her dress, a designer white silk gown that hugged in all the right places, was reminiscent of the wedding gown that hung impatiently in her closet at home.

  Emily was the kind of beauty that men desired and women envied. But then she cast her kind, loving eyes on you and you couldn’t help but fall in love with her.

  For a brief moment, Jo thought of their dad. She wished he could be there, wished he could see the woman his youngest daughter had become. He died when Emily was sixteen, still wearing braces and yet to gain control of her gangly body. He would be so proud. Jo could hear him as though he were standing beside her. What a beauty, Jo, he would say. Just like an angel fallen to earth.

  Jo brushed a tear from her cheek and turned to the bar, picking up her wine for another fortifying gulp.

  “Oh, Jo, everything is just perfect!”

  Jo turned and couldn’t help but laugh at the excitement in Emily’s eyes, like a child on Christmas morning.

  “The centerpieces look so wonderful. And the posters! I told you they would be perfect.”

  “You did,” Jo agreed.

  Emily threw her arms around Jo’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she sighed.

  Jo just nodded.

  Ryan moved up behind Emily and encircled her waist with his hands. “We should go greet our guests,” he said.

  Emily looked up at Ryan and her face was so radiant with love that Jo felt her breath catch in her throat. Ryan glanced at Jo and winked. She didn’t have to wonder what that wink meant.

  Jo found herself patrolling the sidelines as the party continued, never without a glass in her hands. Most of the guests she knew, though not all of them well. Friends of her parents made a point of saying hello, but none ever hung around Jo for long. Jo made conversation difficult, she knew that. She had never mastered the art of small talk. Besides, she preferred her own company in most situations. Less chance of making a fool of herself.

  That’s why she found herself wondering how she had allowed herself to be talked into making a toast.

  “JoJo,” a voice called behind her.

  Jo spun around and laughed as she was lifted into the air by two powerful male arms.

  “Jack,” she sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “You look great,” she said as she examined his All-American, good-old-boy looks. “Too good. I can’t believe Kyra let you out of her sight.”

  Jack laughed. “Kyra is too pregnant to care about much of anything. In fact, I think she would be perfectly happy if some other woman took me home tonight.”

  Jo laughed, shaking her head. “Not Kyra.”

  Kyra was an artist who was the embodiment of the hippy generation. But when it came to loyalty and fidelity, Kyra wrote the book.

  “So, how’s it going?” Jack asked, a little flick of his eyebrow indicating the happy couple.

  “Good. I think they’re really happy.”

  “Can’t miss that,” Jack said, studying them for a second. “But I meant you.”

  Jo shrugged. “It’s not about me.”

  Jack chucked her chin lightly, a buck-up gesture he’d always used when he though Jo was being a little too self-sacrificing. If anyone knew Jo, knew the cauldron of emotions bubbling just under the surface, it was Jack. The son of her father’s best friend, Jack and Jo practically grew up together. They were closer than brother and sister, a relationship built on mutual love and trust rather than blood.

  “I’m fine,” Jo said, aware that she wasn’t fooling anyone, not even herself. “Just a little worried about this toast I’m supposed to give.”

  “A toast?” Jack’s eyebrows rose and Jo knew what he was thinking. He wouldn’t let her offer a toast at his own wedding because he knew her so well.

  Jo sighed. “Emily insisted.”

  “All I can say,” Jack whispered against her ear as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, “is good luck.”

  An hour later the music stopped and all eyes turned to the front of the room where the happy couple stood. Ryan held up his wine glass and smiled into the crowd. “First of all, we’d like to thank everyone for coming. It’s a joy and an honor for Emily and me to share this happy moment with all of you.”

  A cheer went up as guests responded to Ryan’s words. Very eloquent, Jo thought, the words of her prepared speech tumbling through her nervous mind.

  “I still can’t believe this amazing woman agreed to be my wife,” Ryan continued, turning to Emily who stood beside him, beaming sunshine from her eyes to his. “She knows about my baseball collection and she still wants to marry me!”

  The crowd burst into laughter. Emily said something, but the words were lost in the noise. Whatever it was, it brought a gleam to Ryan’s eye as he bent to kiss her.

  When the room quieted down, Ryan turned to the room, his arm around Emily, and gestured to where Jo stood with his wine glass. “Now Emily has convinced her lovely sister, Jo, to say a few words.”

  Jo’s heart fluttered in her chest as she slowly made her way to the front of the room, aware of a hundred pairs of eyes on her. Emily handed her a fresh glass of champagne and whispered, “You’ll be fine. Just imagine them all naked.”

  That did not help. Jo turned and the first person she saw was Uncle Timothy, a seventy-year-old man who resembled a redneck Santa Claus. The image of him naked…not helpful.

  Jo held up her glass and cleared her throat, making the small microphone Ryan had handed her bark feedback. Jo bit her lip and found Jack in the crowd, but the look of pity on his face did little to help the situation.

  “Ryan and Emily,” she began, her voice breaking as it was amplified over the entire room, “couldn’t be more deserving of one another.”

  Jo paused, realizing that the statement could be twisted to mean so many things, not all of them flattering. Her cheeks began to flame and she stuttered. “I mean, they are well suited to one another.” But that statement also seemed to have malicious connotations as it rang over and over in her ears.

  “What I mean is…” Jo began again. She could hear laughter in the back of the room and felt the dark stares of those standing closer to her. Jo’s hand began to shake and bile rose in her throat. Suddenly, she wished she hadn’t drunk so much wine so quickly. Tears began to burn beneath her eyelids. Blindly, Jo shoved the microphone into Ryan’s hand and ran out of the room, the sound of Ryan’s voice following her.

  “I certainly hope that doesn’t run in the f
amily.”

  Chapter 6

  Tears rolled down Jo’s cheeks as she walked blindly down the street. It was always the same. Talking in front of a crowd, even when that crowd consisted of family and friends, was something Jo just simply could not do. She had told Emily, told her again and again, but she refused to listen. Maybe now she would.

  That wasn’t fair, though, and Jo knew it. She could have said no. She could have insisted that Emily have someone else make the toast. She could have asked one of her sorority friends to do it, maybe that petite blond who was always hanging around her apartment, or maybe Jenna, her high school friend. But Emily had said so many sweet things, telling Jo how important it was to her that it be her sister to give the toast. To show a united front. To prove that they were still best friends.

  What had Jo’s meltdown proven?

  Jo could imagine what they were saying, could imagine exactly what everyone thought her meltdown was all about. It wasn’t true, but she could hear the gossip just the same as if she were a fly on the wall in that room.

  If only she hadn’t walked out. If only she had made the speech like she had practiced. If only—

  Jo turned a corner and ran headlong into someone coming out of the corner deli.

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” she mumbled.

  “Jo?”

  Jo looked up and found herself face to face with Mark.

  Still dressed in the same button down shirt and jeans he had being wearing at work, he stood holding her arm with one hand and a deli bag in the other.

  “Mark,” she sighed in disbelief, though with the way things were going tonight, she should not have been surprised to run into him. She reached up and scrubbed her cheeks with the backs of her hands, hoping he had not noticed the tears.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I have an apartment just up the street.” He held up his deli bag. “Just picking up a little dinner.”

  Jo glanced a little enviously at the bag, imagining the domestic scene awaiting him at home. “They have great sandwiches here.”