Jay studied me with interest. I sensed his sincerity, accompanied by a focused intensity I hadn't noticed before. He treated me as if I were the most important thing in the room, really listening to what I said, his attention devoted to me and only me — not the giggling office workers the next table over smiling in his direction, or the pretty painted housewives surreptitiously admiring his physique. As our eyes met across the table, I reconsidered everything I'd ever thought about this man, every cliché judgment I'd fostered, every half-assed assumption I'd made. Jay Green was simply himself, without frills or pretense, and I found being with him, talking with him, laughing with him surprisingly easy.
Our conversation followed the standard getting-to-know-you path: where I lived, what I was studying (how'd he find out I was in school?), how the hell I ended up at the in the Sonoma Diesel shop office. At first I kept my answers short: living in Santa Rosa, Social Work major, job placement courtesy of AccTemps Employment Agency. But then I filled in a few other details to answer the questions he hadn't asked — my own apartment, no roommate, no steady boyfriend as of mid-September, when a nasty fight over my willingness to use my hard-earned money to buy gas for his boat, ended my year-long relationship with Kevin Mac (who had always liked the fact I made a decent wage, perhaps more than he actually liked me come to think of it, and no woman in their right mind wants to put up with that bull-hickey, right?).
After we ordered the manicotti lunch special, I turned the tables and asked Jay some of the same questions. As he relaxed in my company, conversation spun easily between us and he became more animated. Beyond the fact I'm a good listener, I found myself fascinated by this handsome man's life story. The world beyond our lunch table simply disappeared. I couldn't have told you how full the restaurant was, or our waiter's name, but I'll always remember where we sat and how the light from the stained glass patio doors fell across our table, painting a rainbow across the white linen.
"Grew up in a little town named Canyon, just outside Amarillo, Texas where I played cornerback for the Canyon Eagles. Didn't have much when I was a kid 'cept ice cream on Saturday night and church on Sunday." Jay smiled at the memory, his southern accent turning the word Amarillo into Amarilluh. "Broke my arm down in San Antonio riding rodeo when I was nineteen. Candy and I'd been married about a year and needed the extra cash 'cause our baby daughter Ellie was sick a lot. I was just an apprentice mechanic then, and my salary didn't cover the mortgage and all the doctor bills. We lost our home and nearly our car because I couldn't work for a few months. After the arm healed, I didn't have a lot of choices if I wanted to provide for my family, so I joined the Army, which at least got my daughter the medical care she needed. But after two deployments, El grew up really not knowing me." Jay paused to look out the window, his brow furrowed.
"That must have been hard," I said. "When you came back, though, she got a chance to know you."
"She did," Jay nodded, pursing his lips. "But first I had to explain I was her real daddy, not the man Candy'd been seeing while I was gone."
"Oh," I said, my fork hand freezing in mid-air. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," Jay agreed, pushing ricotta-filled shells around on his plate. "But we got through it, Candy and I. Talked about divorce, but decided against it. Thing is, we got married too young. She was 17 and pregnant. I was barely 18. Our parents were religious, and pretty much insisted on the wedding and we went along with it. I thought it was only the right thing to do, you know. But it wasn't. Not really. Not for either one of us. 'Cept we didn't know how to say 'stop' at the time. Or make a different choice."
Jay took a bite and shrugged. "Sounds like one of those sad country songs, don't it."
"Real life, real people." I raised my eyebrows and gazed up into his face. "We play the cards we're dealt, yeah?"
"You got that right," Jay sniffed, then looked into my eyes and smiled a sad smile. "But sometimes there's no getting past the things that happen, the choices we make. Candy and I tried every way we knew how. Our second daughter, Gracie, is five years younger than Ellie. We had a few good years there in Texas. I was making OK money, the girls were growing like bean plants." Jay shook his head. He fell silent then, as if he was considering what to say next.
"What happened then?"
"My buddy Dave Higgins is what happened then. We moved up to Redding the year Ellie started fourth grade. Job opportunity I couldn't pass up."
"Dave Higgins?" Curious to learn whether the Dave Jay was talking about was the same guy Rita had a crush on, I cocked my head in interest.
"Met Dave in boot camp. We served in the same unit overseas. Stayed in contact after our tours were up. When a job at Caterpillar came open in Redding, he gave me a call and said 'get your ass up here.' He'd arranged a sit-down with his uncle, the Service Manager. Sounded worth it. I drove nearly two days straight to get there." Laughing, Jay turned his coffee cup around in the saucer.
"As it turned out, the effort was worth it. Pay raise, signing bonus, moving allowance. I got Candy and the girls moved into a rental house within the month. I thought we were starting a new life, away from everything that happened in Texas. Like we were getting a second chance."
"You were starting a new life, right?"
"Yes and no." Jay rubbed his forehead. "I was starting a new life. Candy was going back to an old life. Before I knew it, she and Dave are all over each other every chance they could get. I couldn't fucking believe it.... But then again, this is Candy we're talkin' 'bout and she was maybe making up for all those teenage years taking care of a sick baby. I dunno. Anyway, Dave's wife Gina and I figured 'why not' so we hooked up too. I guess that's what they call swingers or something, trading partners..."
Jay gazed at me as if to test my response to the term.
"I guess," I said, not sure what he expected me to say. "If that's what you're into..."
"Yeah, well the thing is, I wasn't. Not really. Those Redding years were just a lot of wasted days and wasted nights partying. Don't get me wrong, Gina was a great gal. Devastated when Dave started running around like a high school kid with Candy on his arm. She jumped into bed with me for somethin' to do, or to make her husband jealous, or whatever. I don't blame her. I blame myself for getting mixed up in the whole thing. I was lonely and thought maybe.... well, it don't matter anymore." Jay paused.
I could tell he wasn't quite done with what he had to say, so I prompted him. "Fast forward a few years and you're here in Sonoma now. Candy here too?"
"Yup... Her affair with Dave ended earlier this year. We moved down last month when I was offered the foreman position. But things aren't really right between us. Kinda hard to pick up where we left off again, although we're trying."
"And Dave? He's moved here now too, right? Works for Nowalk?"
"Yeah, he ended up over in Glen Allen. A bachelor now. Gina divorced him. Had enough of his bull. Thing is, Dave and I were friends through a pretty intense couple of years. Looked out for each other when things got dicey. Can't erase that."
Jay took a deep breath and looked at me. His eyes held an intense determination I hadn't seen before, a rawness that stripped away the polite Southern facade to reveal a man who felt things quite deeply, however casual he made it all sound. Then he blushed and shook his head, eyes downcast, his expression suddenly turning to that of a man desperately scrabbling backward as if to undo what was already done.
"Jay," I said, resting my hand atop his on the white table cloth. "Don't—"
"I'm sorry, Jess," he interrupted. "I can't believe I told you this pitiful story...."
My thin fingers clenched his muscled wrist as if to pull him back from whatever abyss he was staring into. Without rational explanation, I could feel his despair and pain as if it were my own. "Don't second-guess yourself. Or your choices." Before I knew it, my other hand was unconsciously reaching across the table as if to touch his face. I stopped before I actually made contact with his skin, but not before Jay's fingers caught mine. The sun traced gold
en strands amongst his wavy brown curls, matching the blond-brown mustache. His hand felt warm and safe, the intimacy eerily familiar.
Studying our entwined fingers, Jay frowned. "You know, I never told anyone that entire story before. I guess it's been stuck inside me, twisting in my gut. Maybe it was time to tell it. Or maybe... it's just you." His eyes looked into mine with a disarming intensity and, God help me, I tumbled hopelessly into the sky blue depths. My lungs swelled with that same weightless sensation you feel when you crest the top of the roller coaster track and begin the plunge down the other side.
What was I getting myself into?
Two hours later, Rita showed up at my counter and insisted I accompany her outside for a cigarette break. We stood shivering in the weak autumn sun on the empty Parts Department loading dock, "What the hell happened?" she asked for the third time, lighting a second Kool cigarette off her first. Her svelte frame was draped in fabulous form-fitting fuchsia, a cropped black cashmere sweater curving around her shapely shoulders.
As my friend blew intersecting smoke rings, I paced beside the concrete wall, trying to find the words to describe lunch with Jay. "It was nice," I said, shrugging. "Vicente's manicotti was great as usual. We talked... that's it."
"That ain't all of it. I'm calling bullshit," Rita pronounced, her sharp eyes scrutinizing my best nonchalant office girl expression.
"Reets, I swear, we just talked. You know, the polite who-are-you type of conversation people who don't know each other have at lunch. It was... interesting." I stopped there, certain that if I said anything more Rita would instantly pry open the lid on the jar of confused emotion I was madly trying to contain.
"You talked? That's it? For two and a half hours. Yeah, right." Rita rolled her dark eyes. "Like I was born yesterday."
"What do you want to hear? That we were doing it like rabbits in the front seat of his truck down by the Cashew Creek?" I tipped my head and frowned at her in exasperation. "Don't get all a-twitter. We didn't."
Rita gave me her older-friend-knows-best look. "OK... so what am I picking up on here? Something happened. I know you, Jessica Carline Maneiro, and I know when you are trying to pretend nothing is happening and getting all twing-dangled up in your head. So, for chrissakes just tell me already..."
"Twing-dangled? Is that a word?" I emitted a weak chuckle at my friend's creative vocabulary.
"Don't change the subject." Rita stomped one Italian high heel on the pavement.
"Gawd, Reets. I can't tell you if I don't even know myself."
Rita looked at me questioningly, one painted eyebrow raised, a clear invitation for me to say more.
"You're right. Something happened. I don't know what it was. There was this weird space/time thing where I sort of lost track of what was happening around me and got so focused on him and our conversation.... It was if we'd known each other for like, years... and, I dunno, Reets, then he grabbed my hand in his and said "I've never told anyone that before. Maybe it was time. Or maybe it's just you." which in that moment made me feel like there was this intense connection between us... And then he paid the bill and we left." I paused, totally out of words to describe what couldn't possibly be described. Shaking my head, I shrugged again. "Fuck. I don't know what happened. It doesn't make sense. I barely know the man." I turned and paced to the end of the loading dock where the November breeze whipped my long hair into tangles.
Rita's hand on my elbow made me startle. I turned to see my friend standing beside me, clutching her black cashmere sweater around her shoulders for warmth. Her dark eyes held a concerned expression. "Sorry Jess. Didn't mean to push. You know—"
"It's OK," I said, earnestly, signaling an end to the conversation. "I gotta get back to work."
Rita ignored my interruption and kept right on talking. "— all those things you described. Losing track of the world. Feeling like you know him well, even when all the evidence says you don't. That intense connection that makes no logical sense. Some people say those same things when they talk about the experience of falling in love."
Gazing into my friend's face, I felt a hollow sickly feeling in my gut. "That can't happen," I said. "No way. No how." Without so much as a good-bye, I turned and walked across the parking lot toward my office as fast as my high heels would permit.
From across the parking lot, Rita's low voice reached my ears. Her tone was kind in only the way a friend's voice can sound when telling you a hard truth you'd rather not hear. "It's already happened, hon. No gettin' that back into the box."
Chapter Four
For a week I avoided being alone with Jay. I stayed professional and polite in the office. Said 'good morning' and all that. But I didn't make eye contact. I guess I didn't trust myself to look into his sapphire blues again without feeling that undeniable connection I didn't want to feel. I couldn't allow myself to feel anything like that because our relationship could never go anywhere. I wished I could pretend lunch never happened and he was still just an asshole foreman who irritated the crap out of me. Friday afternoon I stayed late to catch up the payroll hours and make things easy on the front office to cut checks the following Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. The company didn't have to do it, but they usually did, sort of a surprise to hand out the pay checks two days early with a frozen turkey, a holiday gift for the men's families.
At 6 pm, Earl Wyse strolled through the lobby with his battered tin lunch box under his arm. "You and Jay are the only ones left. I'll lock the front on my way out, so when you leave just make sure the door closes tight behind you."
"Will do. Thanks." I nodded and went back to my keyboard. "I'll be done here in a few."
Earl jangled his keys, then stopped at the counter. "And thanks for staying late on a Friday. I know the accounting girls will appreciate the effort." Embarrassed at handing out a compliment, the bearded man quickly left and I returned to work, determined to get through the timecards so I could get the hell out of there.
When I heard the swinging doors to the shop creak open, I was donning my raincoat. Had to be Jay, damn it. If I'd just been five minutes quicker, I could have avoided seeing him and been on my way. But now I had to say something to the man. I couldn't just run away from him.
"You still here, Jess?"
"Yup. Just got done. Grabbing my purse and heading out now."
Jay padded around the corner and stopped at the service counter. "I'd like to apologize again for our lunch conversation."
"Jay, I—"
"Let me finish, please. I made you uncomfortable and that's not what I intended. I thought..." He looked at me directly then, eyes serious. "Well, I ah... I thought we might be able to be friends. That is, if you want to be."
Relieved, I smiled a genuine smile, my eyes now unafraid to meet his. "Of course. I'd like that. Very much." Friends. That I could do. Absolutely. After all, there was nothing wrong with being friends with a male coworker. That lunch experience — the feelings that swamped me when he touched my hand — that would never happen again. I wouldn't let it. Or so I told myself.
"Good," he said, smiling back, the gold-brown mustache quirking up at the sides. "Since it's already so late, ya wanna join me for a bite to eat. Maybe a pizza? As a friend, of course."
"OK," I said, surprised, but not altogether displeased. "If you let me buy. And it has to be Olivetti's. They make the best pizza in town." Remarkably, my voice sounded normal. Inside I was relieved to find that I wasn't feeling all twing-dangled any longer. Of course Jay and I could be friends.
"Olivetti's it is." Jay nodded. "Meet you there in 15 minutes."
The pizza parlor was filled to the rafters with noisy patrons. Jay managed to nab a table from a departing family and we settled into opposite seats in the fake red leather booth with a laugh.
"Better to be lucky than good," he grinned, helping me push aside the previous occupants' plates.
Our fingers brushed accidentally. making me startle as if I'd been burned. I glanced up at his face for a mo
ment, wondering if he'd felt it too. Jay busied himself mopping up pizza crumbs with a napkin, avoiding eye contact. We sat for a moment in awkward silence while I wracked my brain trying to think up a safe topic of conversation. Something friends would talk about.
"Beer?" he finally said, taking out his wallet.
"I'm buying," I insisted.
"You're buying the pizza. I'm buying the beer." Jay stood and casually picked his way through the crowd toward the bar. I silently admired his backside as he walked away. Friends can admire friends' backsides, I thought, smiling to myself.
I studied the menu for something to do, fidgeting in the oversize booth. I always ordered the same thing — Olivetti's Meatsa Masterpiece — so checking other menu options was purely me trying to manage nerve sputters. A line began forming in the restaurant foyer, people willing to wait for an open table. Jay and I had arrived just in time to avoid the same grisly fate.
Suddenly above the crowd's rumble, I heard a woman's New York accent. "Jessica Carline!"
I raised my eyes from the menu to see a beatific Rita dodging tables, a bemused Dave Higgins in tow.
Sliding into the opposite seat, Rita winked at me and yanked the grinning Dave down beside her. "Mind if we join you? Dave, you know Jess, right?"
"Sure do," Dave smiled, his chiseled Nordic features on full display.
"Wow. Yeah. Well, HI!" I stumbled my way through the words, wondering how the hell to tell my best friend she couldn't sit with me. Especially when the table was big enough for four and you weren't out on a date with a new beau or anything that would preclude being friendly and polite.
"You here with Kevie Mac? I saw his Chevy out in the parking lot." Rita cocked her head, then snuggled up against Dave's side in a manner beyond friendly.
"No. Actually I'm here with a friend." I said, trying to decide the best way to deliver the fact my friend was Jay Green while my eyes scanned the crowd looking for Kevin, who I hadn't seen in over two months — probably because I rarely, if ever, went anywhere I knew he frequented. Olivetti's on a Friday night was 50/50, so it would not surprise me if Kev were here somewhere in the crowd. Nerves sputtered through me all over again as my friend eyed me suspiciously, one painted eyebrow raised.
Never Say Never (Sonoma Summers Series Book 1) Page 2