Never Say Goodbye (17 page)

“Hello, Jennifer. Susan.” It was a struggle, but somehow she managed to maintain a civil tone.

“Jess! Why…we were just talking about you,” one of the women replied, clearly flustered. She exchanged a guilty look with her companion, and both women's faces grew pink.

At least they had the grace to look embarrassed, Jess
thought, gritting her teeth. “I know. I couldn't help overhearing. And I wanted to set the record straight on a few things. First of all, Scott and I are not living together—at least, not in the way you think. Second, Scott understands that material things aren't really what life's about—and that they have nothing to do with what a person has to ‘offer.' So the amount of money he makes isn't that important to him. It's too bad more people don't have their priorities straight,” she said, glancing pointedly at the diamond rings on the women's fingers and the BMW key chain lying on the table.

“As for manual labor,” she continued, “it's a lot more honest than the backbiting politics of the corporate world. And finally, I would suggest you think about your attitude toward ex-cons. You know one now. So you ought to realize that they don't all fit the same mold. Writing people off, denying them a chance because of a stereotype—be it race or gender or age or a prison record—is just plain wrong.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies.”

Jess didn't wait for them to reply. She simply turned and walked toward her table, her head held high. Only when she sat, her back to the women, did she realize that her legs felt like rubber and her hands were trembling. In-your-face confrontation just wasn't her style, she acknowledged, drawing a shaky breath. She generally avoided it at all costs, unless she felt passionate about a subject.

Which ought to tell her something, she suddenly realized with a jolt. Because her last two confrontations had involved defending Scott.

 

Scott's throat tightened with emotion and he moved farther back into the shadows as he watched Jess walk to her table. He, too, had overheard the conversation between the two women they'd once considered friends. Frankly, he was getting used to dealing with that kind of garbage. It rarely bothered him anymore. What did bother him was that their derogatory comments hadn't been confined to him. By association, Jess had been tainted, as well. Which was something he simply hadn't considered when he'd thought about them reuniting.

Scott jammed his hands into his pockets as he studied Jess's profile. She was clearly upset. He could see it in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, in the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, in her white-knuckled grip on her water glass. But intuitively he knew she wasn't upset because of the women's disparaging comments about
her.
She was upset because of what they'd said about
him.
Which made him feel good. And bad.

On the plus side, her vigorous defense of him was clear evidence that her feelings for him were deepening—whether she realized it or not.

On the minus side, today was only a preview of what she'd have to deal with if they got back together. Scott recalled her father's comment a few days earlier. “If you cared for her at all, you'd leave her alone. You'd walk out of her life and never come back,” he'd said. Scott hadn't believed him then. But suddenly a seed of doubt crept into his mind. Was it fair to subject Jess to the bias that would likely follow him
the rest of his life? he wondered, a troubled frown furrowing his brow. He'd just seen the effect of it firsthand. Her righteous anger told him that she was able to deal with such prejudice publicly. But as he studied her now, he was also aware that it had bruised her heart. This time, on his behalf. But eventually she would feel the hurt for herself, as well.

“Excuse me, sir…can I help you?”

Scott turned to find a waiter at his elbow. “No, thanks. I'm just getting ready to join my party.”

As the man disappeared, Scott took a deep breath. Hiding in the shadows wasn't going to give him any answers. If he'd learned anything at all over the past four years it was to acknowledge problems and deal with them head-on. So, forcing his lips into a smile, he stepped into the sunlight and made his way toward Jess.

She looked up as he approached and returned his smile, though he could still see evidence of strain on her face as he took the seat across from her.

“Sorry I'm a few minutes late,” he apologized. “A long-winded customer.”

“That's okay. It gave me time to make a quick trip to the ladies' room.”

“That's what I figured. The hostess said you'd been seated on the patio, but you were nowhere to be seen when I got here. So I waited under the grape arbor.”

She shifted uncomfortably and glanced over her shoulder toward the table where the two women had been seated.

“They made a fast exit after your conversation.”

Her gaze swung back to his. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough. And I'd like to thank you for your spirited defense.”

Her face colored slightly. “I can't believe the things they were saying! How can people be so…so…”

“Unkind?”

Her eyebrows rose. “I had a stronger word in mind.”

A wry smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I'm getting used to it, Jess. It goes with the territory of being an ex-con.”

“Well, it shouldn't.”

“I agree. But it does. And unfortunately, the stigma is transferred to people who associate with ex-cons. Frankly, I don't care what those women said about me. But I do care very much about their derogatory comments about you.”

She looked at him blankly. “What do you mean?” she asked, confirming his suspicion that she hadn't even noticed their snide remarks about her. He hated to call attention to them, but she needed to be aware of what she would face if the two of them got back together.

“Their implications were pretty clear,” he said soberly. “You must be crazy to take up with an ex-con. It was beneath you. There's nothing I could offer you. You might even end up supporting me.”

She stared at him. “I heard some of that. Not all.”

“Trust me, it was there. Ex-cons become very sensitive to those kinds of things.”

She looked at him, appalled. “Do you run into this all the time?”

He shrugged. “I was warned about it, so I was prepared. For myself, anyway. But not for you,” he replied, evading her question.

She dismissed his concern with an impatient shake of her head. “I can handle that kind of garbage,” she said brusquely.

“I know. I saw you in action. But I'd rather you didn't have to. And unfortunately, if you hang around me you'll have to,” he said evenly, his gaze locked with hers.

Though his manner was outwardly relaxed, Jess could feel his tension. Clearly, he was deeply concerned about the scene that had just transpired—and even more concerned that it would likely be repeated in the future. Far more concerned than she. And he needed to know that. She returned his gaze steadily, and when she spoke her voice was filled with quiet resolve. “I'm not going to live my life to accommodate other people's prejudices. If people are so shallow they can't look past stereotypes, that's their problem, not mine. And if they can't accept me for who I am—the choices I make, the people I…” She had almost said “love,” she realized in shock, her breath lodging in her throat. She stared at Scott, who was watching her intently, and quickly changed direction. “The people I choose to include in my life—then I don't want to have anything to do with them. And as for people like Jennifer and Susan—frankly, they're not even worth wasting breath on.”

Scott studied her, warmed and encouraged by her
response. Clearly, her feelings on the subject were strong. But were they strong enough to stand repeated attacks? he wondered. Including those from her own parents? Would she eventually become disheartened—or would her convictions intensify in adversity? Unfortunately, Scott didn't know the answer. He'd just have to trust his heart on this one, he realized—and pray that the Lord would offer him guidance.

“Can I take your order?”

Jess and Scott simultaneously looked at the waiter, then at each other.

“I'm ready, but you've hardly had a chance to look at the menu,” Jess said.

He glanced down and scanned it quickly. “Go ahead. I only need a second.”

Jess turned back to the waiter. “I'll have a chicken Caesar salad.”

Scott looked at her with a frown. To get her to accept his invitation for this “thanks-for-your-hospitality” lunch, he'd had to overcome her protests that it was both unnecessary and too expensive. Though she'd finally capitulated, the cost was clearly still on her mind. “Don't you want something more substantial than that?” he said.

“This is plenty, really. I usually just have yogurt for lunch, so this is a big meal for me,” she replied truthfully.

For a moment Scott hesitated, but then he let it pass and gave his own order. “Actually, as it turns out, this lunch is not only a thank-you but a celebration,” he said as he handed his menu to the waiter.

She looked at him in surprise. “How so?”

“I have some good news. I found an apartment.”

Jess stared at him. If his news was so good, why had her stomach suddenly dropped to her toes? she wondered. “Th-that's great,” she replied, striving for an enthusiastic tone.

“I stopped in to see it this morning on my way to work. I think even Karen would approve. There is one problem, though. It won't be ready for occupancy for a week.”

Though she quickly masked it, Scott saw the relief in her eyes—and suddenly felt the same emotion sweep through his heart. She didn't want him to leave!

“You're welcome to stay on at my place,” she replied, confirming his assessment.

He smiled at her, and the warmth that radiated from his eyes sent a flush of heat sweeping over her. “I was hoping you'd say that. Because there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Thank you.” He reached over and covered her hand with his.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at his lean brown fingers resting on hers. It took a concerted effort to tear her gaze from their hands, but when she finally did the undisguised hunger in his eyes not only made her mouth go dry—it curled her toes.

And made her wonder if she'd just made a big mistake.

 

“Wow! Something smells great!” Scott called as he stepped through the front door. “I hope I got what you wanted. I had no idea ginger came in—”

“Happy birthday!”

Scott paused, speechless, on the threshold of the
kitchen. Today had
started
with a surprise, when Jess had said she'd like to go to church with him. And now it was
ending
with one, as well. The significance of the day had fleetingly crossed his mind when he'd awakened this morning, but then he'd forgotten about it. Frankly, his birthday had passed pretty much without notice for the past four years, except for a card from Karen and her family. He'd certainly never expected Jess to mark the occasion. And yet she had obviously gone out of her way to make the day special, to the point of contriving an errand so she could prepare a surprise while he was gone.

His gaze moved from the table set with crisp linens and good china to the chocolate cake on the counter dotted with far too many candles, then on to the gaily wrapped package beside it. Finally it returned to Jess, who was watching him anxiously, her face slightly flushed.

A rush of tenderness washed over him, and he reached up to brush the back of his hand across his suddenly damp eyes. “I can't believe…I never expected… This is so…” He paused and cleared his throat. “So much for eloquence,” he said with a shaky laugh. “What I'm trying to say is thank you.”

Jess smiled nervously. “You're welcome. I made pork tenderloin. I know you used to like it. I hope it's okay. I haven't made it in…for a long time.”

If he was a man given to impulse, Jess would be in his arms by now, Scott thought. But he was still treading on somewhat shaky ground, and a wrong move could blow all the progress he'd made so far, he reminded himself, silently repeating the mantra he'd
adopted over the past few days as logic and need duked it out in his heart.
Don't rush her. Wait until she reaches out to you. Be grateful for whatever she offers.
It was sound advice. But it was getting harder and harder to follow.

“Pork tenderloin sounds wonderful,” he said huskily.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Well, have a seat. It's ready.”

He did as instructed, and though the meal started off a bit awkwardly, his light banter quickly put her at ease. By the time they got to the cake, she was completely relaxed.

“I think you put too many candles on this,” he protested with a smile as she placed it in front of him. “It's going to set off your fire alarm.”

She chuckled. “I don't think so. Now make a wish.”

It was what she'd always said on birthdays. But the last word faded out as their gazes locked. Because Scott had only one wish. And they both knew what it was. Without breaking eye contact he slowly leaned down and blew until every candle was out.

Again he was tempted to reach for her. Again he refrained. But it took every ounce of his self-restraint.

There was silence for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was a bit too bright—and breathless. “Well…that was impressive. I could say something about lots of hot air, but I won't.” She lifted the cake to the counter behind her, turning her back as she cut it. “Why don't we take our cake and coffee into the living room?”

“Okay.” He stood as well and reached for their plates. “I'll just clean up a little first so we don't have this mess to come back to.”

She turned, the cake knife in her hand. Since becoming her house guest he'd made it a point to take on clean-up chores after meals, but tonight she shook her head. “Not on your birthday,” she said firmly.