Save My Soul (19 page)

Although Jordon had only met her once, he'd heard through mutual friends that Grey was still with his high school sweetheart. “No. She … uh … she moved to Bermuda with him.”

Jordon's BlackBerry clattered to the countertop amid a barrage of vulgarities. He snatched the phone, inspected it quickly and pressed it to his ear. “I want you on the next plane to Charlotte.”

“I'm fine.”

“The hell you are. You either get on a plane, or I'm coming to you.”

After a few more minutes, Grey agreed to catch a flight and Jordon added an extra plate to the pile in front of him. When he hung up, he counted the chairs around his dining table.

Something told him he'd remember this day. The question was, would those memories be good or bad?

• • •

Even though the turkey's head was missing, Maggie had a hard time believing the bird on the table wasn't staring at her. She tried to take her mind off the cooked carcass by studying the pandemonium around her.

Bernie's daughters fought over a pink bendy straw while Tabitha's eyes bugged out of her head. She gripped both girls around the wrists and hissed. Bernie reached over them all, plucking the pink straw from the little one's glass. He marched to the trash can and ceremoniously disposed of the offensive culprit amid loud whines of protest.

On the other side of the table, Carlos smoothed a white linen napkin over his lap and talked baseball with Jordon and his brother. With the exception of a couple inches in height and width, Grey looked identical to Jordon.

Sitting at the long table opposite Jordon, Maggie felt privileged and foolish. After the way she behaved last night, she had no right to be at the head of his table, like his queen. She tried to put Bernie in her place, even offered her seat to Carlos, but each time, Jordon stepped in to remedy the mistakes in his seating arrangements.

She watched him from across the table. He tipped his head back and laughed, and her heart pinched with jealousy. She berated herself for the errant emotion. Grey deserved Jordon's attention. After all, she didn't seem to want it. She pushed Jordon away. Hopefully, Grey wouldn't do the same.

Jordon raised a glass of red wine above his head and cleared his throat. “I thought about starting with a Thanksgiving toast.” He glanced at Maggie, and her stomach flipped. “But, instead, I think we should start with a prayer. Maggie, would you do the honors?”

She nodded and then dropped her head as silence fell over the house. Her swallow echoed in her ears. “Around this table are humble hearts eager for nourishment. We're thankful for the bounty before us … ” she looked at the turkey “ … especially the bird who gave life that we may eat.”

The rest of the table's occupants glanced at her. A few chuckled. Maggie smiled. So did Jordon. Her heart squeezed.

She dropped her head again. “We're also thankful for the way you've touched our souls in the past days, weeks, months, years, and lives. We ask that you continue to bless us, guide us, and keep us in your care. Today and always. Amen.”

A chorus of ‘amens' rounded the table as Jordon lifted his glass. “Well done, Maggie.” His eyes sparkled. “Now, a toast to family. You are all my family. Grey is my flesh and blood, and his presence at this table means more than words. That being said, the rest of you are just as much a part of me. I'm thankful for all of you. Cheers.”

Maggie raised her water goblet to her lips and watched Jordon drink deeply from his wine glass. The squeezing in her chest intensified, and the craziest thought popped into her head … she wanted Jordon to love her — for real. She wanted to sit at the head of his table because she belonged there as his mate, his partner, his other half.

He passed a bowl of mashed potatoes to Grey and laughed again. All she could think about was how she wanted Jordon to laugh with her. She couldn't believe the clarity. It didn't matter that he was jaded and scarred, driven and serious, and too rational for his own good. It didn't matter that she was indecisive, imaginative, wishy-washy and wandering. All that mattered was somehow, while she was worrying about Jordon's mistaken love for her, she'd fallen terribly and torturously in love with him.

Her fork dropped, clanging against the plate and making the little ones scream.

“Sorry!” Maggie flattened her shaking hand over the utensil and tried to breath. The air felt heavy and hot. Her stomach churned and her head spun. “I … uh … I'm not feeling well.”

She gripped the side of the table and pushed to stand.

Jordon stood. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I … ”
Love you.
Her head said the words as her muscles went weak, her knees buckled and the world went black.

When Maggie opened her fuzzy eyes, she tried to focus on Jordon's voice.

“This is becoming a habit,” he said.

She reached toward the pain on her forehead, barely touching the spot before the sting split her head in two. “Ouch.”

“And this time, nobody was talking about polygamy.”

He held a cold rag to the wounded skin and smiled. His warm breath brushed across her face and she recognized the smell of butter. The scent made her stomach rumble, reminding her of exactly where she'd been before she took her nose dive. She tried to lift her head off the pillow, and the pain skyrocketed.

The soft mattress cradled her body. “How did I get here?”

“I carried you.”

Great. She was the circus freak of the Thanksgiving feast. “How long have I been out?”

“It's only been about five minutes of semi-consciousness. I was getting ready to drive you to the ER. Still might.” He peeled back the cloth on her head and leaned in for a closer look.

Maggie closed her eyes to cope with more than the pain in her head. Snippets of her revelation slipped through the throbbing in her heart.

“It was the turkey, wasn't it? I figured you were putting on a brave face.” He chuckled. “You were staring at me like you … I don't know. You were staring at me with this odd look, and then you dropped like dead weight. Was it the turkey leg in my hand?”

How could she blame the innocent bird for her behavior? Then again, how could she not? The carcass offered her a way out. If she blamed the bird, Jordon wouldn't ask more questions, questions she wasn't sure she was ready to answer. “I like turkeys.”

“So do I.”

“But I prefer mine alive.”

He laughed again, and she tried to smile. The muscle movement in her forehead hurt too much.

“Take these.”

Maggie opened her palm and Jordon dumped three red pills into her hand. He shoved an arm underneath her back and pulled her to semi-sitting, and then he reached for a glass of water with his free hand. Cradling her in his arms, he brought the water to her lips and poured a couple drops into her mouth.

She loved him, but she couldn't relax, couldn't be thankful. Falling in love didn't solve anything. It just begged more questions. If she loved him, wasn't it possible he loved her? And not because of transference? Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to imagine such a thing through the pain and confusion in her head, but she couldn't believe it, couldn't see how they'd fit. Dealing with all her drama would surely chase him away, and then she'd become the broken half. Maggie swallowed her convoluted thoughts, along with the lingering feeling of stuck pills.

“Go back to your guests,” she finally said.

“No way. You fell hard. I won't leave you alone until I know you're okay.”

Fell hard.
An ironic choice of words.

A tap on the door brought Jordon to his feet and sent him across the room.

“Need anything, Boss Man? How's the patient?” Bernie asked, sticking his head around Jordon's shoulders to smile at Maggie.

“Hi, Bernie. I'm fine. Sorry to ruin dinner.”

“You didn't ruin anything. Now, if you'd fallen in the mash potatoes, we may've had a problem.”

She tried to smile amid the two men's laughter, but the sting halted her again.

“We're good, Bernie. I'm going to stay with her for a while before I decide if I'm taking her to the ER.”

“No ER,” Maggie said.

“Now, listen here. If Boss Man says you're going, you're going. You may be a doctor, but he's bigger and meaner.”

Jordon shoved Bernie's chest. “I'll give you mean. Out. Go entertain my brother.” He shut the door and returned to Maggie's side. “Not exactly the best Thanksgiving ever. I'm sorry. I wanted to give you something you'd never forget.”

How could she ever forget the moment she realized romantic love wasn't some hokey societal experiment gone wrong? The pain in her heart trumped the pain in her head, and she closed her eyes. If she told him she loved him and wanted to be with him, he would pull her close and say the words right back. She was tempted — very tempted — but she couldn't stop the voice of doubt. She suspected one day he'd wake up and realize he wasn't in love with her at all, that he respected her and needed to work through deep feelings from a rocky childhood and failed marriage, and Maggie was the body he needed to get past the spiritual pain. Then Jordon would leave her, and she'd be broken.

“I'm taking you to the ER.”

“No! Why? I'm fine.” She opened her eyes and tried to lift again.

“You're not fine. You look miserable. Something isn't right.”

“Jordon, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Just let the medicine kick in. Please.” It would help her head but not her heart.

“Maggie, you frustrate me. Why won't you let me take care of you?” He rested his head on the pillow next to hers and gathered her into his arms.

He felt strong and safe, and he smelled heavenly. Maggie wanted to detach from everything but him.

Unfortunately, Jordon was the one thing Maggie missed for the rest of the evening. He took a call and never returned. Bolstered by the pain meds, she forced herself to the living room, where she smiled at Bernie's dancing girls and laughed at Carlos and Grey's reenactment of Abbott and Costello's
Who's on First.

When the house fell quiet because everyone had either left or fallen asleep, Maggie only wanted to brood. Flipping to her other side, she looked at the bedside clock. For all she knew, Jordon remained glued to his BlackBerry. She saw him once when he poked his head into the kitchen, asking how she felt. Then he hurried off with his ringing phone in hand.

“There's been an accident,” he'd called over his shoulder.

It must've been serious.

She thought about praying or meditating. Lately, she thought about doing those things a lot more than she ever did them. Running her fingernails over her upper arms, she tried to relax. After weeks of living with a non-stop parade of questions marching through her mind, only one remained:
Would it be so horrible to love someone who may or may not love me back?

Maggie closed her eyes before she could settle on an answer. When she opened them, Jordon curled around her. She didn't know how long she'd been sleeping or when he appeared, but his breath blanketed her neck, convincing her he wasn't a dream. Warmth rushed through her, and she reached a hand to the strong arm wrapped around her stomach.

“Maggie, I'm sorry I missed the rest of the evening. Battaglia's been in an accident.”

“Is he okay?”

“No. He's in surgery. I have to go help his family get things in order.” Jordon pressed his nose into a soft spot on her shoulder, and he blew a shaky breath over her back. “He's in critical condition.”

She squeezed his arm and turned to hold him. “I'm sorry.”

“And I'm selfish. I'm torn between going and staying with you. Are you sure you're okay?”

“Jordon, go. They need you.” She swallowed hard. “I … ” The words were right there. She swallowed again. “I … need you, too, but I'm fine. They aren't.”

He propped on an elbow to stare at her, and for a moment, Maggie thought she'd actually said the words she couldn't manage to say.

A slice of moonlight slipped through the wooden blinds and brightened his face. “What did you say?”

She fought against the impulse to close her eyes and shield her soul from his desperate gaze. “I need you, too.” The whisper came from someplace deep inside of her. And although the words weren't precise, she suspected he caught her meaning.

Jordon shoved both arms underneath her and squeezed her against his chest. “Maggie, don't leave me. I don't know how long this will take. It could take until after Carlos goes. Please don't leave. Wait for me.”

He brushed his lips against her throat, and she wondered how many times he begged his ex-wife to wait for him. He had so many unresolved issues. Maggie had unresolved issues, too, and yet … “I'll wait.”

He propped on his elbow again and brushed his fingertips over the tender bump. “How's your head?”

She'd been so busy worrying about her feelings and consoling his, she'd forgotten about the injury. She frowned. “I could probably use more Advil.”

He scrambled off the bed. “I'll be right back.”

When he returned with the medication minutes later, he plumped her pillows, stroked her arms and stayed wrapped around her until he fell asleep with his BlackBerry propped on the headboard above him, his alarm set for 4
A.M.

She listened to him sleeping, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find the same peace — she wouldn't until she revealed her feelings and dealt with the consequences

Carlos carried a basket filled with folded laundry on his hip. He stopped alongside the living room sofa and smiled at Maggie. “Do you have anything you want me to wash?”

She pushed out of Downward Facing Dog and dropped to her knees. “No, thanks, but I'm proud of you. You're going to make an excellent husband someday.”