Never Say Goodbye (4 page)

In a flash, Scott set the groceries on the walk and knelt beside her, his concerned eyes only inches from hers, his voice worried, his hand on her arm.

“I'm sorry, Jess. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

She stared at him, hardly able to breathe. She looked at his hand—strong, gentle and achingly familiar—on her arm, and her heart stopped, then slammed into overdrive. Dear God, why was she being tormented this way? she cried silently. She'd never wanted to see this man again! She hated him! Hated how his ambition had eaten away at their marriage. Hated how he'd begun to turn to alcohol to relieve the tension of stress-filled days in the business world. Hated how he'd taken the deadly chance that fateful night that ruined her life and ended two others. And hated how, in his presence, she was confronted again by the “if only” that had hung like a dark cloud over her life ever since the tragic accident. The “if only” that said her daughter might not have died if she'd insisted on driving that night instead of letting Scott take the wheel.

Choking back a sob, she scrambled to her feet, filled with an urgent need to get away from Scott. For some reason she sensed danger. Not of a physical nature. But danger nonetheless. She had to get to the safety of her condo, where she could bolt the door against this intrusion on her life. Yet even as she slung her purse over her shoulder and reached for her briefcase, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that she couldn't bolt the door against this intrusion on her heart. That her life was once again about to be turned upside down. Blinded by tears, she groped for the grocery bag, but Scott beat her to it.

“Let me help.” He reached for it and swung it up into his arm.

She hesitated for only a moment. Then, without a word, she turned and headed for her condo, half run
ning as she dug through her purse for her keys, struggling to control the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

“Jess, please.”

He was behind her. Following her. Harassing her. She walked more quickly.

“Please, Jess. I just want to talk to you.”

Something in his tone made her step falter for a moment, but then, angry at herself for allowing the choked entreaty in his voice to affect her, she resolutely quickened her pace.

He didn't speak again, but she knew he was still behind her. Her hand was shaking so badly when she reached her door that she had difficulty fitting her key in the lock. Then, just when she thought she was home free, it slipped from her fingers and clattered to the concrete steps.

Before she could react, he reached down and retrieved it. Panic once more engulfed her. Now she was trapped. Tears of frustration spilled from her eyes, and she swiped at them angrily and desperately tried to figure out what to do. But her brain seemed to have shifted into neutral.

To her surprise, however, Scott didn't hold her hostage. After only a moment's hesitation he reached past her and fitted the key into the lock. It took him two tries, and she noted with surprise that his hands were almost as unsteady as hers. After he turned the key, he stepped back.

“I'll leave your groceries on the step,” he said quietly.

She heard the rustle of the paper bag as he deposited
the sack, and she reached for the knob, prepared to flee, planning to retrieve the groceries later. But then he spoke again.

“I never had a chance to say this in person, Jess. And I know it doesn't change anything. But I want you to know how sorry I am…about everything. I made a lot of mistakes. Tragic mistakes that I regret with all my heart. But the one thing that wasn't a mistake was loving you.”

The raw pain, the passion, in his voice jolted her, compelled her with a force she couldn't ignore to turn and face the man she had once loved. He was standing a couple of feet away, his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans, his face filled with such sadness and remorse that she couldn't doubt the truth of his words. But being sorry didn't change a thing, she thought bitterly as the tears she'd tried so hard to contain suddenly spilled out of her eyes.

Scott watched helplessly, feeling physically sick. He'd been prepared to face Jess's anger. But he hadn't been prepared to watch her crumble in front of his eyes. He lifted a hand in an imploring gesture, then let it drop back to his side. “Dear God, Jess, I'm so sorry,” he repeated hoarsely, his voice choked.

She shook her head and reached again for the doorknob. “It's too late,” she whispered brokenly. Then she slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind her. A moment later he heard the bolt slide into place.

For several minutes Scott simply stood there staring at the closed door, struck by the symbolism. She was shutting him out of her life…and her heart. Her three words said it all.
It's too late.

But Scott didn't believe it was too late.
Couldn't
believe it. Because it was impossible to envision a future without Jess. He needed her…just as he believed she needed him. They had linked their destinies once, for better, for worse, and Jess had abided by their vows despite the tragedy that had befallen them. Though they were married in name only at the moment, he clung to the hope that with God's help, Jess would eventually come to realize that he was a changed man. That his remorse was real. That his love for her had not only endured but grown during their long years apart. And that the joyous, vibrant, life-giving love they had once shared could live again.

As he turned away, Scott knew that his prospects seemed bleak. But he wouldn't give up. Because he believed in the truth of Seth's philosophy.

Spring always comes.

 

“Scott. It's good to see you.” Reverend Young grasped Scott's hand warmly. “I was hoping you'd make it to services.”

“It was a little tricky,” Scott admitted. “The buses run on an entirely different schedule on the weekends.”

The minister frowned. “I must admit I forgot about your lack of transportation. We'll find you a ride from now on.”

“I don't want to put anyone out, Reverend. The bus worked out fine.”

The minister laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. “There are a lot of good, Christian people out there, Scott. Give them a chance to put their beliefs into action.”

Scott smiled. “It's pretty hard to refuse when you put it that way.”

“Sometimes accepting help is much harder than giving it,” he acknowledged. “So are you settled in? Everything going okay?”

“So far so good.”

“How are you and Seth getting on?”

Scott grinned. “Fine. I think. He's not much of a talker.”

Reverend Young chuckled. “True enough. But he's a good man. Fair and honest and dependable. He's not much of a churchgoer, but he really lives the golden rule. Is the work okay? I know he expects a lot.”

“He does. But I don't mind hard work. Which is a good thing, because he's got a lot of commercial landscaping contracts and spring is a busy time. Let me put it this way…I rarely have any trouble sleeping.” Except for the nights when even bone-weary fatigue couldn't overcome the longing in his heart for Jess, he added silently as a shadow swept across his eyes. Then he forced his thoughts in a different direction. “You have a nice church here, Reverend,” he complimented the man, glancing around the grounds. “It's just like you described.”

The minister nodded in satisfaction. “We've come a long way since this land was donated five years ago. Would you like to see the back?”

“Sure.”

They made their way around the building, which stood on a slight rise that overlooked a small tree-ringed pond. Though it was in a suburban area, the grounds were quiet and secluded. “I come back here when I need a few moments to refresh my soul,” the minister said. “It's a nice spot, isn't it?”

“Very. What's going on back there?” Scott nodded toward the edge of the pond, where some sort of construction project was in progress.

“One of our members thought a gazebo would be a nice addition, and offered to build one.”

“I agree.” Scott eyed the terrain critically. “Have you thought about adding a meditation garden, as well? It's a perfect spot for one.”

The minister looked at him in surprise. “Frankly, no. Though I have to say the idea has appeal.”

“I'd be happy to draw up some plans for you. And if the church could afford to invest in some plants and trees, I'd be glad to do the work.”

Reverend Young smiled. “You work all week, Scott,” he reminded the younger man gently. “Everyone needs a day of rest.”

Scott shrugged. “It would give me a lot of pleasure to create a place of beauty that people could enjoy. I wouldn't consider it work. And I have the time.”

The minister studied him for a moment. “You need to take some time for yourself, Scott. And for Jess.”

Scott stared out over the placid waters of the lake. Reverend Young knew his most intimate secrets and dreams, more so even than Karen. He'd tried to shield her as much as possible from his private demons, though clearly she'd picked up on far more than he'd realized. But with Reverend Young it had been different. The minister had been there when Scott was at his lowest ebb, when he'd given up on life, when he'd been able to see only darkness on the horizon. And he'd made the long journey to prison numerous times in those days just to see Scott, to walk with him through the valley of darkness, until light had finally begun to dawn on the dark horizon. If Karen had saved
Scott by giving him abiding love, Reverend Young had saved him by giving him abiding faith.

“Things aren't going well with Jess,” Scott said quietly.

“Have you talked to her?”

“Yes. The first time she hung up on me without saying a word. The second time I waited for her at her condo. But she couldn't get away from me fast enough. She just said it was too late and closed the door in my face.”

“You knew it wouldn't be easy.”

Scott sighed. “Yeah.”

“Hate is a difficult thing to overcome, Scott. And forgiveness doesn't come easily for many people.”

Scott frowned. “That's the odd thing, Reverend. I expected hate. And anger. But what I saw in Jess was more…I don't know. Confusion. Fear. Pain. It was almost as if the whole thing happened four days ago, not almost four years ago.”

“I'm sure your release brought back all the memories. Made them seem fresh again. She may need some time to sort through her feelings now that you're back in her life. To deal with unresolved issues.”

“So should I back off? Wait awhile?”

“You might want to move slowly,” the minister counseled. “Even though I know that's hard to do. But I know the Lord will show you the way if you put your trust in Him.”

Scott sighed and shook his head. “Patience is one of those virtues I'm still working on, Reverend.”

The minister smiled sympathetically. “You and millions of other people.” Then he turned back toward the lake, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You know, I think a garden would be just the thing for the
gazebo. I'll run it by the church council at our meeting this week and let you know. Besides, gardening is a good way to develop patience,” he added, his eyes twinkling as the two men headed back to the front of the church.

Scott grinned. “You sound like Seth.”

The minister chuckled. “He's quite a philosopher, isn't he?” As they prepared to part, the minister laid a hand on Scott's shoulder, his eyes once more serious. “Hang in there, okay? I'll keep you in my prayers.”

Scott took the minister's hand in a firm clasp. “Thanks. I can use them.”

The minister smiled. “That's my job. You plant trees. I plant prayers. But both send out roots. We just need to do our part.”

Scott thought about the aptness of Reverend Young's analogy as he headed back to his apartment. The visible signs of his relationship with Jess, the arching branches and beautiful blooms, had been ruthlessly chopped off at ground level. To the eye it had died. But Scott believed with all his heart that the roots were still there, filled with life. That with nurturing, tender new shoots would spring from the parched ground.

It was up to him to make that happen. And with the Lord's help and guidance, he would find a way.

J
ess glanced at her bedside clock and groaned. Three in the morning—only ten minutes later than when she'd last checked. Since going to bed four hours earlier, she'd logged all of thirty minutes' sleep, she calculated wearily. This was going to be one of those nights. Meaning tomorrow would be a very long day at work.

With a resigned sigh she threw back the covers, swung her feet to the floor and reached for her robe. Maybe a soothing cup of herbal tea would help, she thought hopefully as she padded toward the kitchen. Mechanically she filled the kettle, turned on the stove, dropped a tea bag into a mug. But her mind was elsewhere. Namely, on her encounter with Scott the day before.

She'd slept little last night and had spent most of today trying, with some success, to avoid thinking about Scott. But she had far less control over her
sub
conscious
thoughts, and they kept bubbling to the surface each time she began to drift to sleep.

The whistle of the kettle distracted her momentarily, and she automatically went through the motions of making her tea. Then she carried it to the living room and sank into a comfortable chair, letting her gaze rest on the photograph of Elizabeth prominently displayed on the coffee table. Her daughter's smile was infectious, her four-year-old eyes bright with enthusiasm and lively intelligence and the sheer joy of life so common in the very young. She would be almost eight now. Finishing up second grade. Looking far more grown-up than she had in this photo.

If.

Jess drew an unsteady breath. She knew it didn't do any good to keep rehashing the past. To keep asking the “what if?” questions. Her therapist had stressed that over and over again. You had to deal with the bad things in your life, then move on. And Jess had done that. She'd put the “what ifs” aside, learned to deal with her pain and then established a new career—and a new life. No, it wasn't totally “normal” yet. She still didn't sleep well. She didn't eat enough. And despite the support of her family, a deep, aching loneliness was still her constant companion. But no one knew that. In fact, few people outside her family would ever guess the trauma she'd been through. So yes, she had moved on. And she'd felt good about the progress she'd made.

Until now.

Because Scott's return had completely unsettled her, resurrecting doubts and emotions and questions that
she thought had been laid to rest long ago. It had been easy to hate him, to blame him for everything, to think of him as cold and uncaring, when he was miles away. It was a whole lot harder when he stood three feet in front of her, his eyes filled with anguish and regret.

His physical presence also made her remember all too clearly the love and intimacy they had shared before ambition distracted his attention from the things that really mattered. It was one thing to dream about those things from the past, and a different thing altogether to have the subject of those dreams stand only an outstretched hand away in the present.

And she certainly hadn't expected him to still love her. Not after the hateful things she'd said to him when Elizabeth died. Not after the cold, bitter note she'd sent him following the accident. Not after years of ignoring his letters. Nor had she expected his gentleness, or the quiet calm that seemed to reflect an inner peace and an acceptance of the past, as if he'd come to grips with what he'd done and found a way to live with it.

Her chaotic emotions, her sudden doubt and uncertainty, made her wonder whether she'd been deluding herself all along. Had she really dealt with the past, or simply ignored it, focusing on the
events
while burying the real
issues
deep in the recesses of her mind and heart unresolved—and still raw? If she had truly resolved her issues and put the past behind her, wouldn't she feel some of the quiet calm, the acceptance, that she'd seen in the depths of Scott's eyes? And if she had truly written Scott off, hated him as deeply as she'd convinced herself she did, wouldn't
she have been able to sustain her righteous anger and dismiss him without a second thought? Wouldn't she have been able to ignore the love and regret in his eyes?

Wearily Jess let her head drop back against the upholstered chair. The answer to those questions was obvious: yes. But in reality, she felt far from calm. She hadn't been able to dismiss him. And she hadn't been able to ignore the emotions she saw in his eyes. Like it or not, Scott's presence had disrupted her carefully reconstructed existence.

For more than three years, Jess had suppressed memories of the life she'd shared with Scott. But now she could no longer keep them at bay. So with a resigned sigh she let them flow.

Jess thought back to their first encounter, in a business meeting. They'd done no more than shake hands and say a few words, but the spark that leapt between them had made her nerve endings sizzle and left her stunned. He had looked equally dazed. So she hadn't been in the least surprised when he'd called the next day and asked her out.

From their very first date, Jess had known that Scott was the man she would marry. And when she'd walked down the aisle with him a year and a half later, her heart overflowing with love, she'd looked forward with joy to the life they would build together as husband and wife.

The first few years of their marriage had more than lived up to her expectations, she recalled wistfully. They cooked together, laughing over exotic new recipes. They gardened, a passion they both shared. They
took weekend hiking trips. And when Elizabeth came, bringing a new joy and closeness to their relationship, Jess willingly gave up her public relations job to be a full-time mother. It was a decision she and Scott made jointly and with absolute conviction. Her joy seemed complete.

But as Scott began to climb the corporate ladder, things started to change. Slowly at first. In manageable increments. A late night at the office here. A missed family event there. Jess could handle those. She understood that there would be occasional conflicts between work and personal life. What she
didn't
realize was that those minor changes were only previews of the major ones to come. Because Scott had been “noticed” by the right people. His talents had been recognized. And as a result, career demands increased. “Rising young executives,” it seemed, were expected to put their jobs first. Always. Period.

Jess tried to cope with Scott's increased absences and his growing distraction. She watched with alarm as his job became the center of his life. Between his cell phone, e-mail and pager he was never able to get away from the office. She kept telling herself that in time the demands would ease. But as the months, then years, went by and the pace only intensified, she realized that things would never change unless
Scott
changed them.

So Jess tried to talk to him about it. Repeatedly. But the conversations always followed the same script.

“What do you want me to do about it, Jess?” Scott would say impatiently. “In this business, if you're not on the fast track, you're not on
any
track. And I can't
afford to be without a job. I'm the sole breadwinner. Which is fine. We agreed to that. But I do feel more pressure now to provide us with a good living.”

“Good is one thing, Scott,” she'd reply earnestly. “But I don't need that huge new house you've been talking about. Or the new car. Or a diamond bracelet for Christmas. I'm perfectly happy with simple things. Maybe you could change agencies, find a less demanding job. One that would give us more time to spend together.”

He would frown then, the conflict in his eyes apparent. “I know I haven't been around as much as you'd like, Jess. But people don't just walk away from jobs like this.”

“Why not?”

The question was always met with a sigh of exasperation. “I worked too hard to give all this up now.”

“Give what up? The country club membership? The designer suits? Is that what you're talking about?”

“Is there something wrong with those things?” he'd ask defensively.

“No. Only when they come at the expense of other, more important things.”

“I'm doing the best I can to balance everything, Jess. I'll just have to try harder, I guess.”

And that's where the conversation would always end. In a stalemate.

Two years into that lifestyle and after numerous dead-end conversations on the subject, Jess began to notice another disturbing change in Scott's behavior. He'd always enjoyed a glass of wine with a special dinner, a beer while cutting the grass on the weekend.

But now he went for the harder stuff. A gin and tonic became his standard way to unwind at the end of a long day. And at social gatherings he drank far more than was prudent. It was one more worry for Jess to add to her growing list.

But there were good times, too. Scott was a wonderful father—when he was home. He never looked more relaxed or happy than when he was playing with Elizabeth. And she adored him, reaching out her small chubby arms to him and laughing with glee when he appeared. They had good moments as a couple, as well. In the small hours of the morning he would sometimes curl up behind her, stroke her body and whisper words of love that made her heart ache with tenderness—and with a bittersweet pang for the days when making time for love had been his first priority.

And then tragedy struck. The death of her beloved daughter. Bitterness. Recriminations. The end of their marriage in everything but name. The death of her dream for a happily-ever-after life.

Jess felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and she reached up to wipe it away. With an unsteady hand she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip.

But her tea had grown cold.

Just like her life.

 

“You look tired, honey. Are you feeling okay?”

Jess glanced at her mother. She usually enjoyed the weekly evening with her parents, but she'd dreaded tonight's dinner. She'd done her best to camouflage the dark circles under her eyes, the result of several
almost sleepless nights, but obviously her makeup skills hadn't been up to the task.

“It's been busy at the office,” she hedged.

“I'm looking forward to the iris show,” Frank remarked.

“So am I,” Jess said with a smile. Taking her parents to see the gardens when the irises were at their peak, followed by an elegant brunch in one of the downtown hotels, had become an eagerly anticipated annual outing.

“Speaking of flowers, I need to order some mulch for the rose beds. And I think I lost my Mr. Lincoln this winter. I'll have to replace that as soon as the shipments come in.” He turned to Jess. “I'm planning to extend the back garden and add a few more bushes this year.”

She smiled. Her father's rose garden was a neighborhood legend. “How many do you have now, Dad?”

“Forty-five.”

“I don't know why you even bother going down to the botanical garden. You have your own right here.”

He looked pleased. “Mostly roses, though. I like to look at all the other flowers, too.”

“So have you been working longer hours?” Clare asked Jess, doggedly returning to her earlier line of questioning.

Jess toyed with the food on her plate, and took a deep breath. She might as well tell them about Scott's visit. After all, they were all adults. They could discuss the situation rationally. “Yes. And not sleeping very
well for the past few days. Scott came by on Saturday.”

Her father stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, then threw his napkin on the table and stood. “That's it. I'm calling John Kane. We'll put a stop to this.”

So much for rational discussion, Jess thought ruefully. This was the reaction she'd been afraid of. “I don't think that's necessary, Dad.”

He planted his fists on his hips. “Are you telling me that you're not upset by these contacts?”

“No. But he'll get the message eventually.”

“He'll get it a lot faster if he gets slapped with a restraining order.”

He'd also get in trouble. Probably big trouble, Jess figured. She doubted the criminal justice system showed much mercy to newly released prisoners who were accused of harassment. And after looking into his eyes, she just couldn't do that to him.

“Let it go for now, Dad,” she said quietly. “I'll think about it if this keeps up.”

Her father studied her appraisingly. “What did he say to you?”

She shrugged. “Not much. Just that he was sorry.”

Frank snorted. “It's a little late for that.”

“I told him the same thing.”

“Did you also tell him to leave you alone?”

“More or less. I shut the door in his face.”

“I don't like this, Jess,” Clare said, clearly worried. “It's been a hard few years for you. You don't need to have your life disrupted again.”

Jess didn't disagree. The trouble was, her life was already disrupted.

When she didn't respond, Frank spoke again. “Your mother's right, Jess. You've been through enough.”

Jess looked at her parents. They'd always been overly protective of their only daughter. And while she deeply valued their support and understanding and unqualified love, this was a decision she had to make on her own. She'd been affected by Scott's return in ways she didn't quite understand. And until she did, until she made sense of her chaotic emotions and thoughts, she was reluctant to take any action.

“I appreciate your concern. But I want to give this a little time,” she said firmly.

There was silence around the table for a moment, and then Clare spoke. “It's her decision, Frank. She'll let us know if she wants us to step in.”

Jess sent her mother a grateful look, then transferred her gaze to her father. He frowned in disapproval and seemed poised to make another comment. But after a moment he silently took his seat instead, confining his response to a single sentence.