CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sheriff Adam Jordan’s days off usually fell in the middle of the week. He’d developed a habit of checking the movie schedules every Wednesday. If something new was playing that he particularly wanted to see, he often went to the early-evening show.
He wasn’t as interested in this week’s movie, a comedy starring Jim Carrey, as he was in a couple of hours’ distraction. He was still thinking about the previous Saturday and how shocked he’d been when Jeannie French invited him to dance. Okay, she’d had a reason. She’d wanted to thank him for replacing the blouse, but she needn’t have asked him to dance to do that.
Adam wasn’t all that fond of dancing, but he made a point of partnering as many women as he could for a spin around the floor. It was either that or spend the entire evening ogling Jeannie. He’d never seen her look more beautiful. Apparently it was his lot in life to get stuck on a woman who wanted nothing to do with him.
He’d seen her dance once with Billy Joe Durkin and nearly suffered a heart attack. Billy Joe was a ladies’ man, and if ever a woman was capable of capturing a cowboy’s attention, it was Jeannie. She’d danced with a few other men, too, and it was damned difficult to stand back and watch. Since that night all he’d done was think of Jeannie. He needed a distraction, so an afternoon at the movies suited him just fine.
Ticket in hand, Adam purchased a bag of buttered popcorn and a tall drink, then headed into the air-conditioned theater. The nice thing about catching the first show of the night was how empty the theater was. Many times there was only a handful of people.
Carrying his snacks, Adam discovered the theater completely unoccupied. A few more patrons would arrive in short order, they always did, but by then he’d have his choice of seats. That was the good news. The bad news was he’d prefer to share a movie with someone. But most of his friends didn’t have the same days off. And if they went to a weekday showing, it was usually the later one, well after dinner.
Adam had settled in his seat when the doors opened and a second person entered. A woman, he noted absently, taking a sip of his drink. Not until she walked past him did Adam recognize Jeannie.
“Jeannie,” he said aloud, then wished he hadn’t. So much for playing it cool. So much for acting nonchalant. Blurting out her name in a surge of sheer joy wasn’t going to impress a woman who’d made her views on dating him extremely clear. Painfully clear.
“Hello, Adam,” she said, looking equally delighted to see him. That was a switch.
Rather than say anything else that would embarrass them both, he stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth, then wiped his greasy palm down his thigh. When no one immediately joined her, he glanced over his shoulder, finding it difficult to believe she was alone.
She hesitated, then sat two rows ahead. With the entire theater empty, she’d chosen to sit almost directly in front of him. Was this a signal? Was this her way of letting him know she regretted her previous attitude? Adam wasn’t going to risk asking.
“Want a Milk Dud?” she twisted around to ask.
His mouth was full of popcorn, so he shook his head.
“I was hoping you’d save me from eating them all myself. I can do without the extra fat.”
If she was hinting that he should tell her she had a perfect body, he wouldn’t comply, although heaven knew it was the truth. Everything about her was perfect. Time and again he’d tried not to think of her; until last Saturday, he’d almost succeeded. Then she’d asked him to dance, and the feel of her still lingered in his arms.
Offering him a piece of candy could be an overture. A friendly gesture. But he knew himself well enough to recognize that he wouldn’t be satisfied with a casual friendship. He wanted more. A whole lot more.
“Actually, I much prefer the popcorn,” Jeannie was saying. “But Milk Duds are the lesser of two evils.”
“Buttered popcorn?”
“Buttered,” she agreed.
Adam wasn’t sure what possessed him. He knew he’d kick himself later, but he stood up, carrying the bucket of popcorn and the drink, and moved to her row.
Jeannie smiled as he took a seat three away from her. “I’ve come to rescue you,” he said.
“Rescue me?”
“From eating the Milk Duds. If you’re going to consume unwanted calories, make it something you’ll truly enjoy.”
She seemed about to argue, then suddenly said, “You’re right.”
Grinning, he tilted the popcorn in her direction.
Jeannie helped herself to a handful, then savored each kernel. “This stuff is going to clog my arteries, add fat to my hips and get stuck between my teeth.”
“You can always refuse,” he reminded her.
Her hand stilled above the bucket. “I’ll do without lunch tomorrow and promise to floss after the movie.”
Adam chuckled.
“Here,” she said, handing him the Milk Duds.
“What’s this for?”
“My gift to you,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
The theater darkened then, and the previews began. A few more people entered and chose seats far from where they sat. Adam wasn’t sure who moved first, but by the time the movie started, he and Jeannie had each shifted one seat over and sat side by side.
The comedy was undeniably silly, and Adam howled with laughter. Jeannie did, too. The popcorn slowly disappeared and not long after, “The End” flashed across the screen. Then the lights came on, and they glanced at each other self-consciously.
But neither Adam nor Jeannie made any attempt to get up.
“That was great,” Adam said, and he wasn’t referring just to the movie. This was what he’d envisioned a date with Jeannie would be like. Laughing together, enjoying each other’s company. It had happened by accident. However, he wasn’t sure what to suggest next. If anything.
“I haven’t laughed this hard in months,” she said.
He thought of asking her to dinner, but dismissed the idea immediately. No need to set himself up for more rejection. If Jeannie suggested something, though, that would be an entirely different matter.
She didn’t.
Adam finally stood. “Good seeing you again,” he said casually.
“You, too.” Jeannie got to her feet, as well, but neither made a move toward the aisle.
“I’d better be going now,” he muttered.
“Yeah, me, too.”
Adam forced himself to turn and start out of the theater, determined not to look back.
“Adam?”
He whirled around at the sound of her voice, cursing himself for appearing so eager.
“I thought you handled the situation with Lyle Whitehead beautifully…at the dance.”
“Thanks.” He lingered, wanting to say something and not knowing what. If only he’d had more experience, more finesse. “Did you, uh, enjoy the dance?” A question seemed the best way to continue the conversation.
“It was great.” Jeannie joined him in the aisle and they walked out of the theater together. “I learned more about the people of Promise in those few hours than the entire time I’ve lived here.”
“How’s that?”
Her smile was slow and it charmed him completely. “I saw my colleagues and my students’ parents outside the classroom—that was a real eye-opener.”
Adam chuckled.
“Now I know why certain children behave the way they do.”
They walked into the warmth of the late-June evening. Once again Adam toyed with the idea of inviting Jeannie for dinner. Once again he decided against it.
“Well, nice seeing you,” he said—for what? the third time?—and was about to turn away.
“You, too…Adam,” she said, slightly breathless. “I…” She paused and offered him a shaky smile. “Listen, you and I started off on the wrong foot, it seems.”
He waited.
“I was thinking maybe…you know, we could be friends.”
He thought about it for a moment. She’d opened the door, but not damn near far enough. Friends. She wanted to be friends. “No thanks, Jeannie.”
“No?” She looked stunned. “But I…I hoped…”
He’d also hoped, and it’d been a disaster. “You see, I want the popcorn, too. I’m afraid I’m not interested in the Milk Duds.” Adam could tell from her frown that she didn’t understand.
“I hate it when people talk in riddles,” she said. “I can’t figure them out.”
“You will,” he told her. Then he turned and strolled away.
* * *
Gordon Pawling was as giddy as a schoolboy. It’d been fifteen years since his wife’s death and he’d never expected to fall in love a second time, certainly not this late in life. He felt so young, so happy now. Since meeting Nessa, he felt full of purpose; he had a reason to get out of bed in the morning. His interest in the world around him grew. He found himself looking up old friends he hadn’t talked to in months, playing chess again. His passion for golf returned.
His son had been after him to get back into law. Since his retirement, Gordon had acted as a legal adviser, reviewing cases and offering opinions and recommendations, but he’d let that slip away. Let most things slip away.
Before he met Nessa, he’d simply been waiting to die. Not in a morbid sense, but as the natural end of human existence. He’d lived a productive life, had a fulfilling career, married, fathered a son, served his community and retired. He’d completed his purpose. Death was the next logical step. He didn’t fear it, didn’t dread it.
But thanks to Nessa, Gordon had discovered a new enthusiasm for life. He greeted each day with anticipation. Their telephone conversations had become his secret addiction. He’d never been much of a talker, especially over the phone, but all that had changed. The phone was his only contact with Nessa, and it had become essential to spend part of every day with her.
“Dad.” Miles walked into the den, surprising him. “I thought you must be home, but you didn’t answer the door.”
“I didn’t hear it.” Caught up in his plans and reveries as he was, the sound of the doorbell must have escaped him. A visit from Miles was rare indeed. “Sit down. What can I get you to drink?”
His son sank into the matching chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. “I thought you must’ve been reading and dozed off.”
Gordon didn’t confirm or deny his son’s comment. It would be a bit embarrassing to admit he’d been deep in thought—about a woman.
“What are you drinking?” Miles asked.
Gordon had forgotten about the glass on the end table at his side. “Wine. It’s a merlot.”
“I’ll have some of that.”
Gordon stood and headed for the dining room, checking the time as he went. Nessa would be expecting his call in a few minutes. He got another goblet from the buffet and poured his son a glass, then hurried into the kitchen to use the phone there.
Nessa answered on the first ring.
“Miles is here,” he explained. “I’ll call you back as soon as he leaves.”
“Oh, do,” Nessa said, sounding stressed. “Please. No matter what time it is.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” she said, then added shakily, “I don’t know… Sylvia’s gone, but Gordon, I feel like such an old fool.”
“If you’re a fool, then so am I. I’ll phone as soon as I can. Goodbye for now, my darling.” It was the first time he’d said the endearment aloud, although that was certainly the way he thought of her.
He returned to his son a moment later and was surprised to find Miles standing at his desk. Miles glanced up with a mildly guilty expression and stepped forward to accept the goblet.
“Something on your mind?” Gordon asked as they both sat.
“Work. Kids,” Miles said, resting his head against the cushion and closing his eyes. “There just don’t seem to be enough hours in the day. I need a vacation.”
“Take one,” Gordon advised. “It’ll do you good. Karen, too.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
Gordon was proud of his son, who had a number of fine traits and qualities. Most of those had come from his mother, in Gordon’s opinion, but his keen legal mind and good business sense he’d inherited from his father, if Gordon did say so himself.
“You enjoyed the cruise you took a few years back, didn’t you?” Miles asked.
“Very much.” But not for the reasons his son assumed. Gordon had agreed to the cruise under protest. The idea had been Miles and Karen’s, and the ticket was given to him as a gift. They were making an effort, he’d realized, to lift his sagging spirits. So he’d gone. He’d found the experience moderately enjoyable, but the best part of the cruise had taken place the last evening, when he’d gotten to know Dovie. They’d stayed up nearly the entire night talking. She was in love with her sheriff friend and took pains not to mislead him, for which Gordon was grateful. That night had been a valuable lesson for him; spending time with Dovie had proved he could still feel attracted to a woman. Could still enjoy music and moonlight and a bit of flirtation.
It seemed ironic—and somehow right—that he’d met Nessa through Dovie.
“Karen’s been looking at brochures.”
“Take a cruise,” Gordon said. “Perhaps as an anniversary gift. I could—”
“Dad, no. Thank you, but no.”
Miles had a stubborn streak. “All right, if you insist, but I’d be more than happy to pay for it.”
“Didn’t you meet someone special while you were in the Caribbean?” Miles continued, not looking at him.
“Special?”
“A woman,” his son elaborated.
“Dovie Boyd,” Gordon said.
“From somewhere in Texas, right?”
“Promise, Texas,” Gordon replied. “Why?”
“You really liked her, didn’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he answered, wondering at this line of questioning.
“Whatever happened with you and Dovie?” Miles persisted.
Gordon sighed and sipped his wine. “She married the local sheriff soon after she returned from the cruise.”
“She’s married.” Miles straightened, and the sly smile he wore vanished. “Married!”
“It happens every day, son. People in love get married.”
“I see,” Miles muttered and shook his head sadly.
“I probably didn’t mention it, but that’s because I only found out myself.”
“I see,” Miles muttered again. “You were recently in Texas, weren’t you?”
“Last month for that international law conference,” Gordon confirmed. He was about to explain that he’d rented a car and driven to Promise. But before he could, Miles’s cell phone rang.
“Miles Pawling,” he said, flipping open the compact telephone with the dexterity of a frequent user.
Gordon could tell from his end of the conversation that the caller was his daughter-in-law, and that something had gone awry.
“I have to go,” Miles said, snapping the phone shut and slipping it into his pocket. “Chrissie’s sick and Karen needs me to stop at the drugstore on my way home.”
Gordon walked him to the door. “Take my advice, son, and book the cruise.”
Miles stared at him as if he hadn’t heard a word Gordon said. As if he didn’t recognize his own father.
“Is everything all right, Miles?”
His son rubbed his face. “Oh, yeah,” he replied with a tinge of sarcasm, “everything’s just fine.”
Shrugging, Gordon closed the door and returned to the den. He knew Nessa was waiting, so he sat down at his desk, reached for the phone and punched out her number. Shifting papers, he saw the phone bill and groaned. Even with a special long-distance service, these daily calls were expensive.
“Hello,” Nessa answered, sounding more cheerful.
“It’s Gordon.”
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” she asked without preamble, her voice soft. “Am I your darling?”
“If you want to be. Do you?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “Oh, yes.”
Relaxed now, Gordon leaned back in the chair and set the phone bill aside. These moments with Nessa were worth every penny. “Tell me about your daughter’s visit,” he said—and suddenly remembered Miles standing at this very desk. Was it possible his son had seen the telephone bill with page after page of long-distance calls to Promise?