Never Say Goodbye (5 page)

“I hope you know what you're doing,” he said shortly.

So did she, Jess thought with a sigh.

 

“The welcoming committee's here!”

Scott grinned at Karen, who stood on the other side of his door bearing a pie carrier in one hand and a plate of brownies in the other. “I'm salivating already. I haven't had anything home cooked in years.”

“There's more,” she called over her shoulder as she
sailed past. “The cooler in the trunk is filled with lasagna, meat loaf and a bunch of other stuff. Can you grab that while I take these to the kitchen?”

Scott did as requested, returning to find Karen surveying his apartment with a frown, her hands planted on her hips, her lips compressed into a thin line. Here it comes, he thought resignedly as he deposited the cooler on the kitchen floor. He took a deep breath and braced himself before turning toward her

“I appreciate all this food, sis. More than you know. But you didn't need to go to so much trouble. It must have taken you days to make all this.”

“I'm glad I did. I just checked your freezer and your cabinets. Corn flakes, bread, instant rice, instant mashed potatoes, canned stew, eggs. Is that what you've been living on?”

“It beats prison fare,” he replied lightly. “Was the drive down okay?”

“It was fine. But I'm not through talking about you yet.” Her gaze swept over the apartment before returning to him, and she folded her arms across her chest. “This isn't acceptable, Scott.”

“I warned you it wasn't the Ritz.”

“It isn't even a cut-rate motel,” she shot back.

“It's good enough for now.”

“There was a lovely guest room waiting for you in my house. There still is.”

“I need to be here, Karen,” he said quietly.

She looked at him in silence for a few moments. “Because of Jess.”

“Yes.”

She sighed resignedly. “Well, I'm not going to ar
gue with you about that. It would be a lost cause. But I'm not happy about this,” she said with a sweeping gesture around the tiny apartment.

“I didn't think you would be.”

“Is this really all you can afford?”

“For now.”

“Does Jess know how you live?”

“No.”

She bit her lip. “Look, Scott, I know you signed everything over to her when you went to prison, but don't you think you deserve
something
—just enough to give you a stake to get started again?”

“No,” he replied flatly.

Karen shook her head in exasperation. “Okay, I'm not going to argue with you about this. Yet. Put on your coat. We're going out to dinner. My treat.”

Scott frowned. “But there's plenty of food here.”

“That's for you. After I go back.” When he started to protest, she held up her hand. “Not open for discussion. Besides, after the long drive down here I deserve a night away from the kitchen.”

Scott shook his head bemusedly. “Are you this bossy at home?”

She shrugged. “I happen to be a strong-willed woman.”

“Bossy,” he reiterated.

“Assertive,” she corrected.

“Stubborn, too.”

“If you keep insulting me I just might pack up my food and go home,” she threatened.

Scott held up his hands in capitulation and then
reached for his jacket. “Heaven forbid! You win,” he said with a chuckle.

“I'm glad you see the light,” she said smugly.

Not until they were seated in the quiet restaurant and had placed their orders did Karen once again bring up the subject of Scott's wife. “So tell me how things are going with Jess.”

“They aren't.”

“Are you giving up?”

“No. Regrouping. Trying to figure out how to break through the wall she's built between us.” Suddenly Scott's eyes grew thoughtful as he studied Karen. “Hey, I just had an idea,” he said slowly.

She gazed at him suspiciously. “I don't like that look in your eyes.”

He ignored her comment. “Maybe
you
could convince her to talk to me.”

Karen stared at him. “I haven't spoken with her in years,” she protested. “Why would she listen to me?”

“Because Jess always liked you. And she won't hold
my
mistakes against
you.
I'm willing to bet that she'll at least be polite.” He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Look, I hate to ask you to do this. And I don't know if it will work,” he admitted. “But I'm willing to try anything at this point. She's shut me out both times I've tried to contact her. I need someone to run interference for me.”

Karen waited while their food was placed in front of them, her brow furrowed. “I'm not into confrontation, Scott.”

He tried to smile. “You could have fooled me. You don't cut me any slack.”

She made a face. “Very funny. You're my brother. That's different.”

He looked at her steadily. “I know it's asking a lot, Karen. You've already gone above and beyond. But this means a lot to me.”

Karen was silent for a moment, then she sighed deeply and picked up her fork. “I'll think about it, okay? Now eat your steak before it gets cold.”

 

Jess glanced toward the door in surprise, then at her watch. Her pizza order had arrived in record time. Which was okay. For the first time in several days she was actually hungry. She reached for her wallet, then headed toward the foyer.

“You guys get faster all the…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at the petite, dark-haired woman facing her on the other side of the door. Scott's sister.

Karen nervously hitched up her shoulder purse and offered a tentative smile. “Hello, Jess.”

Instead of responding, Jess glanced behind Karen, her gaze darting into the shadows of the deepening dusk.

“I'm alone.”

Jess's gaze swung back to Karen, who looked as uneasy and uncomfortable as Jess felt. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Karen asked.

“I don't really think we have anything to say to each other, Karen.” She was amazed at how cool and controlled she sounded, considering her insides felt like gelatin.

“I won't take much of your time.”

Jess didn't budge. “Did Scott ask you to come here?”

Karen hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Look, Karen, I don't have anything against you. In fact, I always liked you. But nothing you say will make any difference. I don't want Scott in my life. Period. I've made that pretty clear both times he's contacted me. I don't know what else I have to do.”

Karen took a deep breath and held her ground. “How about five minutes?” she persisted. “That's all I ask.”

Short of closing the door in Karen's face, Jess was faced with no option but to grant her request. Besides, she didn't want to hurt Karen. Or be rude. The woman had always been kind to her, and the two couples had shared some very good times. What could it hurt to give her five minutes? In fact, it might help. If Karen saw how resolute Jess was, maybe she would carry that message back to Scott and discourage him from further contact. It was worth a try.

Jess stepped aside and opened the door. “All right. Five minutes.”

Karen moved past her, and Jess nodded toward the living room. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thanks,” Karen replied as she settled on the edge of the couch. Jess perched on the arm of a chair across from her, folded her arms and waited.

Karen gripped her purse and took a steadying breath. “Look, Jess, I really don't want to be here. But I love Scott. I've seen what he's gone through these last few years. And I want to help him. He's had a really tough time.”

“Forgive me if I can't feel too sorry for him.”

Karen seemed momentarily taken aback by the sarcasm in Jess's voice. “I don't mean to imply you haven't, too, Jess. But prison is hell.”

“So is tragedy. And loneliness. And grief. You don't have to be behind bars to taste hell,” she replied tersely.

Karen nodded. “I realize that. But in addition to everything else, Scott also carried a heavy burden of guilt. He lost the two things he loved most in the world—Elizabeth and you. And it was his own fault. He lived with the anguish alone, day after day, locked in an eight-by-eight cell, with no one to talk to, no one to comfort him, no support system. It…it almost killed him.”

For a moment Jess seemed taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“He wanted to die, Jess,” Karen said quietly. “I came to visit him every month, and for the first year I was afraid every time I left that he would…do something. He lost forty pounds, and his hands shook all the time. And he always had this hopeless look in his eyes, even though he tried to act normal when I was there. But I know him too well. And he was far from normal. I worried every day.”

Jess eyed her skeptically. “He looks fine now.”

“He's better,” Karen conceded. “But hardly fine. He believes there are unresolved issues between the two of you. And he'd like a chance to address them. That's why he wants to see you.”

Jess couldn't argue about the unresolved issues. Not after spending too many sleepless nights thinking
about the situation. But she didn't need to talk with Scott to deal with them. She'd work through them eventually. On her own. As she did everything these days. Her eyes grew cool and she shook her head.

“I don't think so, Karen.”

For a moment Karen studied the woman across from her. Jess was almost like a stranger. An unhappy, unreachable stranger, whose eyes reflected disillusion and bitterness. “You've changed, Jess,” Karen said quietly.

“Haven't we all.”

“Yes. And that includes Scott. I wish you'd give him a chance to prove that to you.”

Jess stood, her face impassive. “If he's changed, I'm glad. But that doesn't bring back Elizabeth. It doesn't bring back the judge who was killed. All it brings back is the pain. If he really cares for me, he'll leave me alone. I would appreciate it if you'd tell him that.”

Karen hesitated a moment, then stood and walked toward the door. She paused at the threshold to look back at the other woman, her eyes sad. “I'm sorry I bothered you, Jess. And I hope you don't regret this decision. I have a feeling that you're making a big mistake.”

As Karen walked away, Jess frowned and slowly closed the door. Was she making a mistake? Or was she being wise?

She didn't have a clue.

And when her pizza arrived a few minutes later, she realized that her appetite had vanished—just like her peace of mind.

 

“I'm sorry, Scott,” Karen concluded with a sigh as she finished the report on her visit with Jess.

Scott tried to hide his disappointment. He'd known all along that it was foolish to hope that Karen's visit would make a difference. And it wasn't her fault that Jess had been unreceptive. “Don't be. You did your best. I knew it was a long shot.”

Karen wrapped her hands around her mug and stared into the dark depths of her coffee. “Jess has changed a lot,” she said carefully.

“Yeah. I know. She's way too thin. And too tense. And much more high-strung.”

Karen nodded. “True. But she's different in other ways, too.”

Scott frowned. “What do you mean?”

Karen shrugged. “I don't know, exactly. Jess used to be so open and full of joy. Now it's like she's shut down. Like there's no way to reach her. She has such bitterness and anger….” Karen shook her head in dismay. “Frankly, I don't know what it will take to get through to her.”

“There has to be a way,” Scott said resolutely.

Karen looked at him steadily. “And if there isn't?”

“I'm not willing to consider that yet.”

“You know, sometimes people are physically hurt so badly that they can't be saved,” Karen said softly. “I think the same is true of some relationships.”

Scott rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. After a moment he drew a long shuddering breath, and when he looked at Karen a bit of light had gone out of his eyes.

“I'm not giving up.”

“She doesn't want to see you, Scott.”

“I respect that. But I believe that God is with me on this. Because I know, in my heart, that the marriage He blessed was meant to go on. And not just in name.”

Karen's eyes were filled with compassion when she looked at him. “I hope you're right, Scott. But I think it will take a miracle.”

“I survived three years of hell, Karen,” he said, his gaze locked on hers. “I believe in miracles.”

She had no rebuttal to that. “I wish I could help.”

“You can. Pray.”

“I already do. Every day.”

“Then keep it up.”

Because he knew he would need all the prayers he could get to bring about
this
miracle.

A
t first glance, Jess wasn't sure. It
looked
like Scott from the back. In fact, as she studied the distant figure more closely, it looked enough like him to make her step falter. But surely she was wrong. Why would Scott be planting bushes in front of the hospital? she wondered in confusion.

Suddenly the man turned, and her suspicion became reality. It
was
Scott, she realized as her heart skipped a beat. For a moment he seemed as taken aback by her presence as she had been by his. Then he slowly set his shovel aside and walked toward her.

Jess thought about turning away, fleeing in the opposite direction. But she wasn't going to spend her life running. Since Scott lived in St. Louis, there was always a chance their paths would cross. She'd have to learn to accept that. And deal with it in a mature way. Which she was perfectly capable of doing, she told herself determinedly. After all, her first encounters with him had been upsetting only because they'd been
so unexpected. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she was better prepared to deal with him.

Scott stopped a few feet away. Despite the chill in the air, he wore only jeans and a sweatshirt. There was a streak of dirt on his forehead, and he looked tired, Jess realized. As if he hadn't been getting enough sleep. The unfamiliar lines she'd noticed on his face at their first meeting seemed a bit deeper, too. Or maybe they were just more apparent in the harsh noonday sun, which also highlighted the sprinkling of silver at his temples. For the first time, Jess was consciously aware of the physical evidence of the hell Karen had said he'd endured. But she steeled herself against it. He had no corner on anguish, she thought harshly. Her lips compressed into a thin, unreceptive line and she stared at him mutely. Since he'd approached her, she waited for him to speak first.

Scott jammed his hands into his pockets, realizing that the ball was in his court. But he had no idea what to say. He was still trying to recover from the shock of seeing Jess so unexpectedly. Though his feet had automatically carried him in her direction, his brain hadn't yet kicked into gear. So for a moment he just drank in the sight of her. Her honey-gold, shoulder-length hair was pulled back at her nape with a barrette, and she wore tailored black slacks and a forest-green jacket with a black velvet collar. His gaze lingered at her neck, where a gold choker glinted in the sunlight and a rapid pulse beat in the hollow of her throat. Was she nervous, he wondered? Angry? About to let him have it—or about to give him a chance to plead his case?

Hoping her eyes might hold a clue, his gaze moved on, past her lips, past the dark shadows that indicated she, too, had been finding sleep elusive. But when his gaze reached her eyes, their green depths were cool and shuttered—and very unreadable. He'd just have to wing it, he realized. With an effort he swallowed past the lump in his throat and struggled to find his voice.

“Hello, Jess.”

Her eyes were aloof as her gaze swept over his dirt-stained clothes. “What are you doing here?”

“Working.” When she frowned, he nodded toward a landscaping truck off to the side. “I work for that company.”

Jess's frown deepened. With Scott's experience, she'd just assumed that he was back in the marketing game. It had never occurred to her he would be working as a manual laborer. That sort of job would have been completely unacceptable to the Scott she remembered, who had come to value designer suits and power lunches, who had liked starched shirts and clean fingernails. It didn't make any sense.

Of course, it was no concern of hers. She really didn't care what he was doing. Yet she couldn't stop the question that sprang to her lips. “What happened to marketing?”

He shrugged. “Ex-cons can't be picky. Besides, I don't have the stomach for it anymore. Or the heart. And I wanted an outdoor job.”

She almost asked why, then thought better of it. The answer was obvious. If you'd spent three years of your life confined in the eight-by-eight cell Karen had de
scribed, she doubted a desk job in an eight-by-eight office would be very appealing.

“Why are
you
here?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Visiting a friend who just had surgery,” she replied distractedly, still mulling over his response to her question. “I ran over on my lunch hour.”

“And what are you doing these days, Jess?”

Jess snapped back to attention. The question was asked gently, with genuine interest. But she saw no point in prolonging the conversation. She glanced at her watch. “I'm running late. Goodbye, Scott.” And with that she brushed past him, leaving a faint, appealing fragrance in her wake.

Scott watched her walk away and slowly let out his breath. After Karen's visit, he'd prayed for guidance about how best to approach Jess. He'd also talked with Reverend Young, who had wisely reminded him that patience was his friend in this endeavor and that the Lord would show him the way in His time—not in Scott's time. So Scott had put his faith in God. And now that faith had been rewarded. Best of all, Jess hadn't appeared upset. Or angry. And she'd actually said more than three words to him. Yes, the conversation had been strained and awkward. And no, she hadn't exactly been friendly. But it was a start, he thought with renewed hope.

For her part, Jess was more shaken by the encounter than she'd let on. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and as she punched the elevator button she realized that her hand was trembling. But at least she'd managed to remain poised and in control during their
brief exchange, she congratulated herself. Her shock at coming upon Scott had been far less dramatic than at their first two encounters. In fact, she was more shocked by his job than by his presence. Manual labor seemed somehow inappropriate for a man of Scott's intelligence and abilities and experience. Why had he settled for such a job? There had to be higher-level jobs, even for an ex-con, that wouldn't require him to spend his whole day in a confined office. Yet he'd chosen to be a laborer. Jess frowned, recalling Karen's comment that Scott had changed. His job choice certainly seemed to bear that out, she acknowledged begrudgingly.

But if she was puzzled by Scott's choice of work, she felt good about her reaction to him. She hadn't fled, despite the temptation to do so. She'd kept her cool. She hadn't been swayed by the warmth in his eyes.

And the next time she saw him—if there was a next time—it would be even easier to walk away undisturbed, she thought with satisfaction.

 

Jess pulled into a parking place and glanced at her watch in frustration. If she hadn't been running late this morning, she wouldn't have walked out the door without the report she needed to present this afternoon. Skipping lunch to run home and retrieve it simply added to the pressure of an already stressful day.

Jess was halfway down the walk toward her condo when she noticed the man sitting on the ground, his back against a tree, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He was at right angles to her, engrossed in a
book, and a crumpled brown paper sack and empty soda can lying on its side were beside him.

Jess's headlong rush slowed, then came to an abrupt halt. It was Scott again! Less than a week after she'd run into him at the hospital, she realized incredulously. The last encounter she had written off to chance. But you could stretch coincidence only so far. If he was going to start staking out her home, then she'd have no choice but to follow her father's advice and have a restraining order issued, she thought angrily.

Just then, as if sensing her presence, Scott looked toward her. Though his surprised reaction momentarily let some of the air out of her theory of a deliberate setup, she still couldn't buy pure chance. The odds against them running into each other twice in only a few days were too great. Taking a deep breath, she strode toward him.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

He closed his book and rose in one lithe movement. But instead of the defensive reaction she expected, his posture was relaxed, his gaze warm. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth in the endearing way she had always loved, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “Didn't we have this same conversation at the hospital?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “You didn't answer my question.”

“I'm working.” He shifted his book to the other hand and pointed to the Lawson Landscaping truck in the parking lot—which she'd have noticed if she hadn't been so rushed, she realized—then nodded to
ward a shovel and a flat of begonias a few feet away. “Now it's my turn. What are
you
doing here?”

She ignored his teasing tone. “I live here, remember?”

“I mean what are you doing here at lunchtime? We're always long gone before the eight-to-five crowd gets home.”

She frowned in confusion. “You've worked here before?”

“Several times. Lawson has the groundskeeping contract for this complex.”

The implications of his reply slowly sank in. He'd been in her neighborhood on more than one occasion. And he had made no attempt to contact her. So much for her father's harassment theory, she thought wryly.

“So what brings you home at lunchtime?” he repeated.

“I forgot a report that I need this afternoon.”

A slow smile spread over Scott's face. “The Lord really does work in mysterious ways,” he said softly.

She frowned again. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I've been praying for our paths to cross again, Jess.”

“This is just a coincidence,” she scoffed.

“Oh ye of little faith.”

The truth of the remark, said partly in jest, stung. “Since when have you gotten so holy?” she lashed out. “I seem to recall having to drag you to church when we were…” She stopped abruptly. “Well, a long time ago.”

Suddenly his face grew serious. “I've changed,
Jess. My faith is the main reason I survived the last few years.”

She stared at him. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“It's the truth,” he said simply. “You of all people should understand that. Your faith was always important to you. Now I know why.”

But I don't,
she thought silently.
Not anymore
. Her spoken words, however, were different. “Look, I don't have time for philosophical discussions,” she said irritably. “I'm running late. You can believe whatever you want about these two meetings. I call it chance. Bad luck. Whatever. And I think it's highly unlikely to happen again. In fact, I hope with all my heart that it doesn't. Goodbye, Scott.”

She lifted her chin and headed toward her condo. Though she purposely didn't look at him again, the title of the book he held somehow seemed to jump out at her as she passed. And for a moment her step faltered. It was the Holy Bible, she realized in astonishment.

As she picked up her pace once again, she suddenly—and much to her surprise—realized that she was envious. Because Scott had clearly found in
his
faith what she'd always claimed to have in
hers.
Trust in the Lord. A belief that no matter what happened, He was always with us. And a deep conviction that if we turned to Him for help, if we admitted our faults and asked for forgiveness, He would stand with us and welcome us home.

When she'd first seen Scott, she'd been struck by
the deep inner peace in his eyes. Now she knew the source.

It was ironic, she thought with a bittersweet pang. In Scott's adversity, when he'd felt most abandoned, the Lord had taken him in. Just the opposite had happened with her. In her adversity, she had walked away from her faith. Because she believed the Lord had abandoned her.

For the first time since Elizabeth's death, Jess acknowledged that the loss of her faith had made her the poorer. But she had no idea how to rebuild it. Or even if she wanted to. Because that would mean once more putting her trust in the Lord. And at this point in her life, she had very little trust to give.

To anyone.

 

“The garden's coming along beautifully, Scott.”

Scott wiped his forehead on his sleeve as he gazed with satisfaction at the plantings that were transforming the area around the just-finished gazebo into a meditation garden. Dogwoods, Japanese maples, azaleas, boxwoods, lilies, hydrangeas, irises and banks of perennials now framed the slightly elevated natural wood structure. The layout was pleasing to the eye, and the plants had been chosen to provide a season-long display of color. “Thanks. I'm happy with the way it turned out,” Scott concurred. “In a year or two, when everything is really established, this will be a lovely spot.”

“It looks pretty good to me right now. And the board agrees. I'm sure they'll thank you officially, but
in the meantime they wanted me to pass on their compliments.”

“It was no big deal,” Scott replied with a shrug. “I had the time, and it was a good chance for me to test my landscape-design skills.”

Reverend Young smiled. “Well, if this was a test, you get an A.” He held up a sack. “Mrs. Wagner dropped off some of her famous white-chocolate-chip macadamia-nut cookies. Think you could help me get rid of a few?”

Scott grinned. “I think that could be arranged.” He laid his shovel aside and wiped his hands on his slacks before following the minister to the gazebo.

“Looks like spring's really arrived,” the minister said as he settled onto one of the benches that rimmed the inside of the gazebo. He retrieved two cans of soda from the sack and handed one to Scott.

Scott took a long sip, then nodded. “That's for sure. Things are hopping at Seth's.”

“I'll bet. Everything okay with the job?”

“Seems to be. Seth doesn't say much, but he's put me in charge of the crew a couple of times when the chief was sick. I take that as a good sign.”