To Find Her Place

by Susan Anne Mason

  His chest constricted as though already feeling the pain he would inflict. “As part of my overall analysis, the board asked for my opinion on your efficacy in the position of directress. It was hard, but I had to remove all personal feelings from the equation and be honest in my assessment.” He bunched his hands into fists. “I told them that though you were an excellent social worker, I didn’t feel you were the right person to run the agency.”

  A well of hurt bloomed in her eyes. She swallowed, then squared her shoulders. “What made you say that? Was it the way I handled Martin’s situation?”

  “That played a small part. But I could see the stress eating away at you as the weeks went on. And to be honest, the performance of the agency has declined somewhat in the last six months. Funds are not coming in the way they did when Mr. Mills was in charge. The caseworkers aren’t working as efficiently as they once did—partly due to the space restrictions, but part of it, I believe, is because they see you as a co-worker and not as their manager. You’re too familiar to them since you used to be one of them.”

  She stared at him, not saying anything. He’d expected anger, arguments, insults even.

  Her silence was far more unnerving.

  “I’m recommending in my report that someone from outside the organization be made director. Someone who would come in with a fresh perspective and be able to bring order to the present chaos.”

  “Someone like you, perhaps?” Her sarcasm bit as sharply as a whip.

  “I don’t know. It depends on who the other candidates are. I may not be the right person for the job either.” He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “On a positive note, I wanted to let you know that I’ve incorporated your ideas for untraditional adoptions into my recommendations, so that whoever takes over the position will have your ideas in writing.”

  “That’s something, I suppose.” She let out a shaky breath, staring at a point past his shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back for a meeting.” She started down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

  Garrett’s feet remained rooted to the cement, his heart just as heavy. “I’m sorry, Jane,” he called after her.

  But she kept on walking, never once looking back.

  26

  I understand. Thank you for letting me know.” Jane hung up the phone, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes.

  The phone call she’d been expecting since Garrett’s unsettling revelation yesterday had finally come. Mr. Fenmore had just called to inform her that the board had narrowed down the candidates for the director’s position to the top three, and unfortunately, she was not one of them. But he hoped she would continue to be a valued part of the team in her former role of caseworker. And would she mind staying in the directress position until he’d chosen the new man for the job?

  How ironic that she’d been so worried about the board members finding out about her divorce, when in the end it didn’t matter anyway.

  Now, as Jane sat facing the mountain of paperwork on her desk, all her enthusiasm seemed to have deserted her. It wasn’t just the utter humiliation of having failed. It was the deep sense of betrayal she felt from Garrett. How could he not say something to her before reporting her shortcomings to the board? If he had, if she’d been more prepared for what he was thinking, maybe it wouldn’t have torn such a hole in her soul.

  She gave a short laugh. Who was she kidding? This cut so deeply because of their personal relationship. If Garrett had remained the interloper, his report wouldn’t have stung nearly as much.

  But instead, they’d grown close. Too close, apparently.

  If he cared about her the way he claimed, how could he have done this? He could have simply given a generic report of her performance and let the board decide for themselves, without his opinion to sway them.

  Instead, he killed any chance she might have had.

  She swallowed hard to push back the lump constricting her throat. Somehow, she’d have to survive the next week or two as directress until a replacement had been hired. Then return to her former position, at a much lower salary.

  A terrible thought arose. What if Garrett was made the director? Could she hand over the reins and continue with him as her boss? Even if she managed to get past the hurt, it would mean the death of any romantic relationship between them. They could never be involved if he became her superior.

  She dropped her head into her hands. How had this become such a tangled web?

  The phone rang. For a minute, Jane was tempted to ignore it. But on the third strident ring, she picked up the receiver.

  “Jane.” Melanie’s voice sounded strangled.

  “What is it?”

  “You’d better come out here right away.”

  Goose bumps pebbled along her skin as she hung up the phone. What else could go wrong today?

  On slightly unsteady legs, Jane exited her office and headed down the main corridor, unsure of what calamity she was about to face. A man in a gray trench coat stood just inside the front door.

  Jane blinked, then froze, all the blood seeming to drain from her body.

  Staring directly at her, the man removed his hat, and a tentative smile inched over his face. “Hello, Jane. I see you haven’t changed a bit. You’re as beautiful as I remember.”

  She stumbled forward a step. It can’t be . . .

  “D-Donald,” she whispered. “How . . . what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you, of course.” He rolled the brim of his hat between his fingers, his nervous glance bouncing to the other workers who now peered out from the front office. “I telephoned the house, and your mother told me you were here.” His eyes held a haunted quality, reinforced by deep grooves that bracketed his mouth.

  “But . . . but why aren’t you overseas? I don’t understand . . .” Her legs wobbled.

  Garrett appeared from somewhere behind her to grasp her elbow and steady her.

  Donald’s expression took on a pleading quality. “Look, could we maybe get a cup of coffee somewhere? There’s a lot I need to tell you. A lot I want to explain.”

  Jane’s lungs didn’t seem to want to expand, rejecting the need for oxygen. Her husband—correction, former husband—whom she hadn’t laid eyes on in four years, was standing in front of her, asking her out for coffee.

  As if that were perfectly normal.

  As if she should be grateful he’d taken the time to look her up.

  As if he hadn’t discarded her and married someone else.

  Scathing words hovered on her tongue, and though she wanted nothing more than to throw him out on his ear, the curious stares of her co-workers held her rooted to the spot. Almost everyone here believed that she and Donald were still married. How would it look if she reacted with rage and not the tearful welcome home that would be expected?

  Yet there was no way she could throw herself into his arms and pretend to be the doting wife, patiently awaiting her husband’s return. Not even Vivien Leigh was that good of an actress. Getting Donald out of the building seemed the best option for the moment. She forced a tight smile to her lips. “Let me get my coat and purse.”

  Ignoring the stunned expression on Garrett’s face, she whirled around and went back into her office, where she leaned against the door and gulped in several large breaths. Her hands shook as she drew on her coat and picked up her purse.

  Calm down, Jane. You can do this. You can blame your strange reaction on shock.

  Garrett was waiting outside her door when she emerged. “Are you all right?”

  She couldn’t look at him right now. She certainly couldn’t acknowledge the concern shadowing those intense blue eyes.

  “I’m fine.” She went to move by him, but he held her arm in a gentle grip.

  “You don’t have to go with him,” he said in a low tone. “You don’t owe him anything.”

  For a moment, she fought the temptation to lean into his strength. But this situation had nothing to do with him, and after what he’d
said to the board, he wasn’t the person she wanted to turn to for comfort. She would deal with this herself.

  “I know, but this is my decision.” She fumbled with the buttons on her coat, annoyed that her fingers didn’t want to cooperate, as she headed down the hall to where Donald waited. “I’ll be back shortly,” she said to Melanie.

  Then, on legs as wobbly as overcooked noodles, she allowed Donald to lead her out the door.

  “There’s a coffee shop on the next block,” she said tightly. “Though I don’t see what we could possibly have to talk about.” If she wasn’t so worried about her heel catching in the crack of the sidewalk, or her legs giving out on her, she’d attempt to walk faster. Anything to get this ridiculous meeting over with as soon as possible.

  When they reached the diner, Donald held the door for her. Jane chose a table nearest the door and sat down. She smoothed the hair off her forehead, making certain that despite her erratic heartbeat, she kept her features expressionless. “Why are you here? Are you on leave?”

  As soon as the question left her mouth, she realized how absurd it was. Why would he waste a leave to come back to Canada? He had no real family left. His parents were dead, and his only brother was fighting in the war too. She was the only person left here that he would have any real connection to.

  Donald took a seat, draping his coat on the bench beside him. His gray eyes were serious as he looked at her. “Not quite.” His mouth thinned.

  “Then why aren’t you overseas?” Her patience was running out, as was her ability to control all the scathing accusations on her lips.

  He paused to give a waitress their order. Then he folded his hands on the tabletop. “Not long ago, I was injured and taken to a hospital in France. Thankfully, I recovered.”

  “You’re here to recuperate?” Jane still couldn’t understand it. Even if he’d been discharged from duty, wouldn’t he return home to his new wife?

  “No, I’m not.” The lines deepened around his mouth. “I was about to rejoin my unit when I received some terrible news.”

  It was then Jane looked past her own shock and anger and noticed the sadness in his eyes. A dullness she’d attributed to weariness from the war or from his recent travels.

  She drew in a breath. “Your brother?” That would explain why he was back in Canada. To bury his only sibling and settle his estate.

  He shook his head, his gaze falling to his hands. When he looked up, tears rimmed his lower lashes. “My wife, Moira, passed away.”

  Jane’s mouth fell open, and she quickly snapped it shut. “Oh. I’m sorry.” How surreal was it that she was offering her condolences for the woman who’d replaced her?

  The waitress appeared and set two cups down in front of them.

  Donald discreetly wiped his eyes. Jane couldn’t remember ever seeing him cry. Except when they lost their son.

  Jane stared down into her mug. Nothing about this visit made sense. Why on earth would he come all this way to share this news with Jane? She was the last person who’d be likely to commiserate with his grief. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, Donald, but what does any of that have to do with me? Because as far as I’m concerned, you and I are nothing to each other anymore.”

  He winced and turned his head to stare out the window at the people walking by. After several seconds, he finally faced her. “The thing is . . .” He hesitated, raising his eyes to hers. “I have a child. A son.”

  Searing pain shot through Jane’s chest as though someone had reached into her chest and twisted her lungs into a knot. Immediate tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  Really, Lord? How much more agony am I expected to bear?

  “He’s seven months old. And he needs a mother.”

  Jane bit her lip, struggling against a wave of dizziness.

  “I realize it was unforgivable the way I left you,” he went on. “And I know it’s not much of an excuse, but I fell apart when we lost—”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Don’t,” she hissed. If he uttered the words our son she would lose it right here in the middle of this diner.

  He closed his eyes, seeming to try to pull himself together. Then he opened them again. “Joining the army seemed the perfect escape, since at that point, I truly didn’t care if I lived or died. Being in constant peril has a way of taking your mind off anything else.” He lifted a wry brow. “Then, one night on leave, I met Moira at a pub and—”

  “I don’t need to listen to this.” Jane shoved back her chair and got to her feet.

  “Wait. I’m sorry.” He reached out a hand as though willing her to stay. “Please, if you’ll just hear me out . . .”

  His pleading tone, along with a look of sheer desperation, elicited a trickle of unwanted sympathy within her. She hesitated, then sat down again.

  “Thank you.” The tension in his brow eased. He took a sip of his coffee, then raised his head, his gaze boring into her. “After Moira died, I realized the only true obstacle you and I faced in our marriage was our inability to have children. Now I find myself alone with an infant to raise. An infant I have no idea how to look after. And it occurred to me that . . . maybe we could help each other.” He reached over to cover her hand with his, an earnest expression lighting his face. “I can give you the baby you’ve always wanted, Jane. We could be a real family, just like we used to dream about, if only you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Cold chills raced down Jane’s arms. She stared at him in disbelief. “Do you expect me to simply forget that you divorced me and married someone else? Forget all the hurt and agony you caused?”

  Amazingly, more tears appeared in Donald’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jane. You’ll never know how terrible I feel about the way I abandoned you when you were in so much pain. As I said, there’s no excuse for my behavior except that I was out of my mind with grief myself. Not only at the death of our son, but at learning I’d never be a father.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, then fixed her with an agonized stare. “What do you think, Jane? Can we put all that behind us, so we can have the future we’d always dreamed of together?”

  27

  Garrett stared out the window that overlooked Isabella Street, as if by peering intently at the road, he could will Jane’s return. It had been over an hour since she left. Not that he was watching the clock or anything.

  “I can’t believe he had the nerve to show up here.” Melanie’s disgust echoed over the now-empty stenographer’s area. She was the one other person who knew about Jane’s divorce. The one other person who was as flummoxed as he was by Donald’s arrival.

  “At least he had the good sense not to bring his new wife.” She huffed out a loud breath. “What do you think he could possibly have to say to Jane?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe he’s here on leave to see his family and decided while he was here to apologize to her in person for what he did.”

  “Possibly.” Garrett moved away from the window and dared to ask one of the questions plaguing him. “Do you think Jane could actually forgive him?”

  The other question—did she still have feelings for the man?—would remain unasked. He didn’t really want an answer anyway.

  Melanie pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I certainly wouldn’t. But Jane has a soft heart underneath her tough exterior. I wouldn’t be surprised if she forgives him eventually.”

  Garrett crossed his arms over his chest. “I just hope his arrival doesn’t bring back too much pain or cause Jane any new problems.”

  Melanie arched a brow. “Is there something going on between you two I should know about?”

  “Of course not.” He kept his voice firm. Melanie was the last person he would want to know about his feelings for Jane, given her inability to keep a secret.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a little crush on the boss?”

  He jerked away from the wall where he’d been leaning. “Jane is not my boss.” He gav
e Melanie his fiercest scowl. He could not afford to have her spreading such ideas around the office.

  She had the grace to look chagrined, and Garrett hoped she’d let the matter drop.

  Just then the telephone rang. Melanie rushed to answer it. “Toronto Children’s Aid.” Her eyes grew round. “Jane, are you all right?”

  Instantly Garrett’s shoulders tightened, and he moved over to the desk, straining to catch what was being said.

  “I understand, but what did Donald—?” Melanie frowned and made notes on a pad, as if listening to instructions. “Yes, of course. Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Call me if you want to talk.” A variety of expressions flickered over her features as she hung up the phone.

  Garrett hovered over her desk. “What did she say?”

  “She said to tell you and the other staff that she’s not coming back today. She wants me to cancel all her appointments for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “That’s worrisome.” He paced to the window and back, fighting the urge to rush out and find her. “How did she sound?”

  Melanie shook her head, making her blond hair swing about her shoulders. “I’ve never heard her sound so shaken. But she wouldn’t tell me what Donald wanted. She said she needed time alone to process everything.” She shrugged. “I have no idea what that means.”

  Garrett pressed his mouth into a tight line. He didn’t either, but it couldn’t be anything good if it had upset Jane to such a degree.

  However, there was nothing he could do at the moment. Jane said she needed time alone. He would give her the afternoon, but he fully intended to talk to her this evening and find out exactly what her ex-husband had said to cause her such distress.

  Jane had no idea how far she walked after calling Melanie from the diner. Hours later, she found herself standing by Lake Ontario, staring out at the strong waves pounding the rocks. She found a bench on a path overlooking the water and, despite the cool temperature, sat down.