Never Say Goodbye (12 page)

“I—I'm still on the mailing list at my church,” she
stammered, thrown off balance by her wayward thoughts. “I got a flyer.”

He studied her for a moment. “I wish I'd known you were coming.”

She looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“Because when a man professes his love for a woman, he usually likes to do it directly,” Scott said softly, his burning gaze holding hers captive and making her heart lurch into triple time. “I didn't intend to tip my hand to you so soon about my intentions, but I guess God had different plans. So I'll have to go with the flow. I realize there's a lot that still divides us, and that it will take a miracle for you to forgive me, let alone find it in your heart to love me again. But I believe in miracles, Jess. And I have hope.” He paused and took a deep breath. “So now you know how I feel.”

She stared at him, taken aback by his sincere and straightforward declaration of love. She wished she was as clear about what
she
wanted and how
she
felt. But she was still confused and groping for answers. And she had no idea how to reply.

As if sensing her dilemma, Scott smiled gently. “I'm not asking for a response, Jess. Given what you heard today, I'm just grateful that you're willing to offer me a ride rather than telling me to take a hike. Shall we head out?”

Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded and led the way toward the exit. Scott fell into step beside her, and when they approached the door he reached past her to push it open. He was so close that his breath was warm on her temple and she could catch the dis
tinctive male scent that was his alone. So close that a powerful surge of longing raced through her, catching her off guard and leaving her slightly breathless. So close that it reminded her of days long ago when a simple touch, or even a mere look, was enough to set off sparks that led to kisses—and often much more. Her mouth went dry, and when she risked a glance at Scott she found that the warmth in his gaze had been replaced by need. And unlike their encounter at the garden, when she thought she'd detected a flame of passion in his eyes before it was quickly masked, this time he made no attempt to hide it. He let her see exactly what was on his mind. Love. Attraction. Desire. Need.

Jess looked away quickly, more confused than ever. For years she'd thought that the passion she'd felt for Scott had died in the accident that robbed her of her cherished daughter. But she'd been surprised once in the garden, and again now, by its sudden and persistent resurgence. And she wasn't ready to deal with it. Or even think about it. Caution was the operative word here, she reminded herself. She knew exactly how Scott felt and what he wanted. Now she needed to logically figure out how
she
felt and what
she
wanted. She needed to analyze the situation rationally, without being influenced by hormones.

But unfortunately they were beginning to get in the way.

T
he ride to Scott's apartment was extremely awkward. At least for Jess. After thanking him for coming to the aid of her father's roses, she couldn't think of anything else to say. He, on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble making small talk, she thought enviously. Though she tried to take part, her responses sounded stiff and stilted even to her own ears.

All awkwardness and self-consciousness vanished, however, when Jess turned onto Scott's street and found their route blocked by emergency vehicles with flashing lights.

“This doesn't look good,” she said with a frown as she pulled to a stop.

An officer from a nearby police car walked over, and Jess rolled down her window.

“Can I help you, ma'am?” he asked.

Scott leaned over. “I live near the end of the block, Officer.” When he gave the address, the man frowned.

“I'm afraid that's where the problem was. Faulty
wiring in one of the flats started a fire. Fortunately, it was contained to one unit, but
unfortunately
I think it was yours.” He took a notepad out of his pocket. “Are you Scott Mitchell?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry, sir. There's not much left,” he said sympathetically. “If you'll pull over to the curb, ma'am, I can give you some more information.”

Jess did as he directed, and the officer rejoined them as they stepped out of the car. “The fire's been out for a couple of hours, so we're just about to wrap up here. We've moved everybody out temporarily.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Scott asked in concern.

“No. Which probably wouldn't be the case if this had happened at night. This kind of fire catches quickly, and smoke inhalation is a real danger. So if there's a bright side, that's it. I can let you have a look if you'd like to try and salvage anything,” he offered.

“Yes, thanks. I'll be right with you.” The man nodded, and as he walked back toward his patrol car Scott turned to Jess. “Well, this is certainly an exciting end to the day,” he said with a rueful smile. “But to be honest, dealing with a fire isn't half as bad as getting up in front of that roomful of people.”

She stared at him, amazed at his calm acceptance of the situation and distraught by the unexpected turn of events.

“Hey, don't look like that,” Scott said softly. He lifted his hand as if to reach out and touch her face, then let it fall back to his side. “Everything will be fine. So don't worry about it, okay? And thank you again for the ride. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

She continued to stare at him. Did he actually think she was just going to go merrily on her way? His home—if such a generous term could be applied to his shabby flat—had just burned down! He had apparently lost everything.
She
was upset, even if he didn't seem to be. There was no way she could walk out on
anyone
in those straits. Especially Scott. Not after she'd listened to his story today. Not after everything he'd already gone through. Not after he'd made it clear that he loved her.

“I'll stay for a few minutes,” she said. Before he could reply, she reached into the car for her purse and slung it over her shoulder.

When she turned back to him, the look in his eyes spoke more eloquently than words of his gratitude—and love. Silently he stepped aside to allow her to follow the officer, then fell in beside her, his hand protectively at her elbow. The light touch of his fingers on her bare skin was like an electric charge, and she tightened her grip on her purse, struggling to control the tremors that ran through her body. Scott might have tipped his hand today about his feelings, but she wasn't yet ready to acknowledge her own—to him, or to herself.

The officer stopped at the edge of the taped-off area and nodded toward what had been Scott's apartment. “The floors are okay, and structurally the building is still sound. These old places were built to last. But the walls and ceilings in your apartment are scorched and there's not much left of the contents.”

“I'll just take a quick look around.” Scott turned to Jess. “Will you be okay here for a few minutes?”

“I'll stick close,” the officer promised.

“Thanks. Hang on to this for me, okay?” He handed Jess his Bible, then turned and strode toward the burned-out apartment.

“Tough break,” the officer said, shaking his head sympathetically. “But he seems to be taking it okay. I hope he didn't have anything too valuable in there.”

Jess doubted it. Mostly because he didn't seem to
have
anything valuable. At least not in a material sense.

The officer's radio crackled to life, and after a murmured “excuse me,” he moved a few feet away to handle the call, leaving Jess alone to stare at the vacant building where most of Scott's unit had been reduced to ashes—just as his life had been, she thought, struck by the symbolism. She glanced thoughtfully down at the Bible she held in her hands, which had provided him with the comfort and courage to overcome tragedy and go on with his life—and with the perspective to understand what really counted. Maybe that's why the fire seemed of so little consequence to him, she mused. It had destroyed only things, which were replaceable. It hadn't destroyed anything of real value.

When Scott emerged a few minutes later he was carrying only a few items, and she looked at them curiously as he approached. There was a family picture of herself, Scott and Elizabeth, which had miraculously survived even if its frame had not; a small metal cross; and two books on horticulture that were a bit charred at the edges. That was it. Her throat tightened with emotion, and when her gaze rose to his, she had
to forcibly resist the urge to reach up and wipe away a smudge of soot on his cheek.

He smiled at her, but she could see the weariness in his face, smell the acrid scent of smoke on his clothes. “The officer was right. There's not much left. I'm pretty much down to the clothes on my back.”

“I'm sorry, Scott,” she whispered.

“Hey, it's okay,” he reassured her, forcing his lips into a smile. “I salvaged the only things that were really important to me. And I'm getting used to this starting-over thing. I'll be fine.” He glanced toward the apartment, and it was clear when he spoke that the symbolism wasn't lost on him, either. “Maybe I'll be like the phoenix. Maybe something new will rise out of the ashes,” he said quietly. He was silent for a moment, and when he turned back to her his grin was genuine. “Anyway, Karen won't be sorry. She hated this place.”

“I can't say I blame her.”

Scott shrugged. “It met my needs.”

“Did you find anything worth saving?” the officer interrupted as he rejoined them.

“Not much,” Scott admitted.

The man sighed. “I didn't think you would. Listen, you're welcome to use my phone if you need to call someone or arrange a place to spend the night.”

“He can use my cell phone,” Jess interjected.

“Okay. Then I just need to ask you a few questions for our report,” the officer said to Scott. “I've got the paperwork in my car. Ma'am, you can wait in your car if you'd like. This won't take long.”

She nodded, and they made their way silently back
down the block. Scott opened her door for her when they reached her car, and after she slipped into the driver's seat he leaned down.

“You don't need to wait, Jess. This might take a while, and I'm sure you have better things to do than hang around here.”

She looked at him, this man she had long ago said goodbye to in her heart. Scott had been as dead to her as Elizabeth, their sacred marriage vow reduced to a union in name only. But like the phoenix, he had returned, transformed. And God help her, she
liked
the new Scott. Enough that even the fear of what lay ahead couldn't compel her to just walk away. She drew a shaky breath, and when she spoke her voice was slightly unsteady. “I don't mind waiting.”

He studied her for a moment, and then his eyes grew soft. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I'll wrap this up as quickly as I can.”

Jess watched as he made his way over to the police car, still juggling the few meager items he had salvaged. In addition to the soot on his cheek, there were now smudges on his shirt, as well. Did he have the money for new clothes? she suddenly wondered. And how would he get to the store to buy the immediate necessities? Almost no buses ran after eight o'clock at night.

More important, where was he going to sleep? From what she'd seen, he couldn't spare much money for a hotel. His sister lived in Chicago, so that wasn't a possibility. Reverend Young might be able to put him up for a couple of days, but the minister could be at the hospital—and unreachable—late into the night.
Perhaps Scott had kept in touch with some of his friends, she thought, though that seemed unlikely. Most of his “friends” in the years before the accident had been business associates, men who would have little loyalty to a friendship once it outlived its utility. So who was he going to call?

“All finished.”

Startled, Jess turned to find Scott once again at her window. “That was quick.”

He shrugged. “There wasn't much I could tell him. And I didn't lose anything of value, except some clothes.”

She nodded. “Why don't you get in while I dig out my phone?”

Scott hesitated and glanced at his soiled hands and clothes. “I'll get your car dirty.”

She reached down and pulled her trunk release. “There are some rags in the back. Help yourself.”

When he joined her a few moments later, his salvaged items were neatly wrapped and tucked under one arm but he was still wiping his hands. “This soot is insidious,” he said ruefully.

“You've got a streak on your face, too.”

He flipped down the visor mirror, then reached up to scrub his cheek. “Thanks.”

Jess watched him for a moment, trying to gather the courage to follow through on a plan that had been slowly taking shape in her mind. She was well aware that it flew in the face of caution—which only an hour ago had been her operative word. But somehow caution seemed less important than compassion at this point.

“Scott…”

“Mmm-hmm.” He was still focused on erasing the smudge on his cheek.

“Where are you going to stay tonight?”

There was an almost imperceptible hesitation in his movement, and then he resumed rubbing. “I'm not sure yet. I'll work something out,” he said lightly.

Jess drew a shaky breath, knowing that what she was about to say could change her life forever. “I—I have a spare bedroom.”

His hand stilled, and slowly he turned to face her. His gaze locked with hers, intense, searching—and cautious. “Are you offering me a place to stay?” he asked carefully, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd just heard.

She nodded jerkily, not trusting her voice.

Scott stared at Jess, momentarily speechless. Even though he believed in miracles, never in his most optimistic moments could he have envisioned an offer like this. For a long moment he gazed into the eyes that he adored, and his heart contracted with tenderness. He knew those eyes so well, knew every nuance of their expression. During their years together, he'd seen them sparkle with joy, glow with passion, shine with enthusiasm. He'd watched them flash with anger, glint with laughter, glimmer with mischief. He had learned to read her moods simply by looking into their green depths. Since his return, though, her eyes had been so guarded that he'd rarely had a clue to her feelings. But now he saw plenty of emotions. Doubt. Confusion. Caution. Fear. And most important, the glimmer of something more. Not love, certainly. Or even affection. It was
more like…willingness…openness…receptivity. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. All he knew was that it represented a quantum leap forward. And suddenly his spirits soared.

Scott turned to gaze again at his ruined apartment, viewing it with new eyes. He didn't care about the contents, but the fire
had
disheartened him, and in the silence of his heart he had cried out, “What next, Lord?” The hassle of finding a new apartment, the expense of replacing his clothes when he was just getting enough cash together for a used car, the problem of emergency housing—it had all seemed overwhelming at first. And yet, in a way, the fire had been the answer to his prayer, he realized. Because by prompting Jess's offer, it had given him the opportunity to interact more closely with her and prove that while he was a new man in many ways, his love for her had never changed. Perhaps his words about the phoenix had been prophetic after all, he reflected.

Jess studied Scott's profile as he stared at the flat he had called home for the past four months. Already she was having second thoughts about her impulsive offer. Learning to forgive was one thing—but sharing her home with the man who had once shared her bed? That was rushing things. And definitely not very prudent. But how did she gracefully retract her invitation? she wondered in sudden panic, her mind racing. Should she just be honest? Say that the arrangement would probably be uncomfortable for them both, that a motel would be better for a night or two? It wouldn't set him back that much financially, she reassured her
self. And it would certainly provide more peace of mind. For her, at least.

Jess was just about to voice her thoughts when Scott turned back to her, and for a moment her resolve faltered—giving him the opening he needed. Because he took one look at her face, saw the panic in her eyes and knew she was on the verge of taking back her invitation. Up until now he'd given her a chance to change her mind on every offer she'd made. But this was an opportunity he simply wasn't willing to give up—even if he had to play on her sympathy to make it stick.

“I appreciate your offer more than I can say, Jess,” he said quickly, jumping in before she could speak. “I'm not sure I can reach Reverend Young tonight, and my so-called friends more or less vanished after I went to prison. I could dip into my car fund for a motel, but I hate to do that. Frankly, the bus is getting a bit old.” Then he played his trump card. “But if it's too much of an inconvenience, I could always go to a homeless shelter for a few nights.”