Never Say Goodbye (16 page)

Scott felt the last vestiges of tension vanish, and he expelled a relieved sigh. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not hating me. For trying to convince Jess to give me a chance. For calling when you did—right after I opened the door and gave your parents the shock of their lives.”

“Ouch. I take it they didn't know you two have been talking?”

“They might have. But they didn't know I was staying here.”

There was silence for a moment, and when Mark spoke his voice was cautious. “You want to explain that?”

Scott smiled. “It's not what you think. Unfortunately. There was a fire at my flat a couple of days ago, and Jess offered me her spare bedroom.”

“No kidding! So how are things going?”

“I'm still here.”

“Yeah. Good point. I'd call that progress,” Mark said encouragingly. “Is she around?”

“Not yet. She should be here any minute.”

“Okay. I'll get back with her later. In the meantime, hang in there. I have a good feeling about this. I know my sister. Even when she thought she hated you, she didn't. She just hated what you
did.
In fact, I'd go so far as to say that she still loves you. But hey, enough
of this mushy stuff. I gotta run. If you need to hear a friendly voice, though, just give me a ring. Anytime.”

The line went dead, and slowly Scott replaced the receiver, his expression thoughtful. Could Mark be right? he wondered. Did Jess still love him?

He wasn't as sure about that as Mark. But he did agree that her invitation to stay was definitely progress. And for right now, that was good enough.

S
cott had been listening for Jess, and when he heard her key in the lock he rose and headed for the foyer. He wasn't looking forward to telling her about her parents' visit, but he would rather she heard about it from him first.

“Someone's been cooking,” she said with a surprised look, sniffing appreciatively as she leaned down to deposit her briefcase and purse on the floor. “It kind of smells like my mom's pot roast.”

Scott took a deep breath. “It is.”

Jess froze for a second, then slowly rose and turned to him in dismay.

“She and your dad stopped by a little while ago to drop it off.”

Jess reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, her eyes troubled. “I'm sure that wasn't very pleasant for you.”

He shrugged. “I survived. Frankly, I'm more worried about
you.
”

“Don't be. I can handle it.”

She was putting up a good front, he acknowledged, but her voice lacked conviction and she was clearly agitated. He watched as she moved into the living room and stopped to stare unseeingly out the window, one hand on her hip, the other massaging her temple.

“It's my own fault for waiting to tell them,” she said with a sigh. “I was going to break the news when I went to their house for dinner on Thursday, hoping that in a relaxed atmosphere they might be a bit more receptive. But that was just wishful thinking. They have strong feelings on the subject. Especially Dad.” She turned to Scott with a frown. “What did they say?”

“Your mother was pleasant enough,” he hedged.

“Which means Dad wasn't,” she said flatly, dropping onto the couch. “Why am I not surprised?” Wearily she passed a hand over her eyes. “Nothing's ever easy, is it?”

Scott watched her silently, read her inner struggle in her eyes. It wasn't fair to make her choose between him and her parents. He didn't have the right to impose that burden on her. Much as he wanted to extend his stay, he couldn't do so if it made life more difficult for her. He jammed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. “I don't want to cause you any more problems, Jess. I can be out of here in an hour.”

She frowned. “Did you find an apartment?”

“Not yet. But it's only a matter of days.”

Slowly she shook her head, and her chin tilted up ever so slightly. “No. I offered you a place to stay, and I'm not backing down. It's my decision, not
theirs,” she said defiantly. “As much as I love Mom and Dad, they're wrong about this. It's my life. I have to live it as I think best, whether they agree or not.” She rose and strode toward the door, pausing only to reach for her purse. “I'll be back in a little while. It's time Mom and Dad and I talked this thing out.”

 

It had not gone well, Jess thought despondently as she got into her car. Actually, “abysmal” might be a better way to describe the encounter with her parents. Although her mother had been somewhat receptive, her father had stubbornly refused to listen to anything that conflicted with his firmly entrenched opinions, summarily dismissing the notion that Scott might truly have repented and changed. When their “discussion” degenerated to the point of becoming a shouting match, Jess had simply walked out.

She drove aimlessly for a time, too upset to return to the condo and face Scott but with no other destination in mind—until she suddenly thought about the meditation garden he'd designed for his church. She'd made a point to note the name of the church on his drawing, thinking that she might stop by sometime to see in person what she had so admired on paper. And suddenly this seemed as good a time as any. A contemplative, quiet place to think was just what she needed.

When Jess pulled into the deserted parking lot a few minutes later, dusk was starting to descend. A slight breeze gently stirred the warm air, giving the illusion of coolness, and the birds were just beginning their twilight song. She made her way toward the back of
the church, pausing in admiration when she turned the corner. The rough pencil sketch had hardly done justice to the garden Scott had designed, she realized as her appreciative gaze swept over the scene.

A natural-wood gazebo stood gracefully on a small rise and was reflected in the surface of the placid lake beside it. A curving path led to the structure, weaving in and out among banks of glorious flowers that spilled down in welcoming array. As Jess slowly made her way toward the lake, she felt enveloped in color and harmony—the result of expert design, she realized. And by the time she stepped into the gazebo, her tension had eased considerably.

Jess sank onto the wooden bench that rimmed the inside of the structure and thought about the creator of this oasis of peace and harmony and tranquillity. Her husband. The man she had once loved with a passion that had seemed destined to endure for all time. But in the end, it hadn't been strong enough to survive hardship and tragedy. Oh, the passion had been. No question about that. But the love…that was different. Love was so much more than just hormones. It was trust and consideration and respect and communication and sharing and commitment. It was putting the other person's needs above your own. It was supporting them and believing in them even when the world didn't.

And it was forgiving.

Jess drew a long, shaky breath. The Scott who had emerged from the gray walls of prison was a man who, under other circumstances, she could easily fall in love with, she acknowledged. But they weren't beginning
a relationship from scratch. They had a history together, one filled with pain and loss and tragedy. And so their future very much depended on forgiveness. Hers.

“Jess?”

She turned, startled. “Reverend Young!”

The minister closed the distance between them, pausing at the edge of the gazebo. “I'm sorry. Am I disturbing you?”

She managed a wry smile. “Relatively speaking, no.”

“May I join you, then?”

“Of course.”

He stepped up into the gazebo and sat across from her, gazing out over the lake. “This is a great spot, isn't it? I usually come back here for a few minutes to refresh my soul whenever I stop by the church. Scott did a great job.” He paused for a moment to savor the view, then turned back to her. “By the way, I spoke with him a little while ago,” he said. At her surprised look, he smiled. “We stay in close touch. I told him when he got out that I would always be available as a sounding board, and I'm happy to say he takes me up on the offer regularly. He told me about his encounter with your parents. And that you had gone to talk with them. I'm sure that wasn't easy.”

Jess sighed. “No.” Now it was her turn to gaze out over the lake. “They're having a hard time understanding why I've let Scott back into my life. And frankly, so am I. I've hated him for four years, and yet I invite him to stay at my condo.” She shook her head, bewildered. “It doesn't make any sense.”

“It might,” Reverend Young said mildly.

Jess turned to him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it all depends on whether the Scott you invited to stay at your condo is the same Scott who went to prison.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “In some ways, yes,” she said slowly. “But he's changed quite a bit, too. For the better.”

“Then maybe your invitation does make sense.”

“Tell that to my parents,” she said with a sigh.

“What do
they
think you should do?”

“Tell him to get lost. They still hate him for what he did to Elizabeth—and to me.”

“And what about you, Jess? How do you feel about him?” he asked gently.

“I don't know.” She rose restlessly and moved closer to the lake side of the gazebo, pressing her palms flat on the railing as she stared out over the water. “I used to hate him. But I'm tired of hating. And I—I'm not sure anymore that everything I blamed on him was all his fault, anyway.” She paused, trying to gather the courage to speak what had long been in her heart. “The thing is, I shouldn't have
let
him drive that night,” she said slowly. “If I'd been behind the wheel, maybe Elizabeth and the judge wouldn't have been killed. And if I'd been more understanding about his pressures at work, maybe he wouldn't have turned to alcohol in the first place.”

She was afraid that when she turned she would see censure and recrimination in the minister's eyes. Instead, they reflected kindness and compassion.

“Guilt can be a terrible burden,” he said quietly. “It can rob our lives of joy and hope and peace. We all do the best we can under the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Sometimes we make good choices. Sometimes we don't. That's part of being human. And we can't spend our lives beating ourselves up over the bad choices. At some point we have to accept the mistakes we've made, forgive ourselves and move on.”

“You sound like Scott.” She forced her lips into the semblance of a smile. “Or maybe he sounds like you.”

Reverend Young chuckled. “The concept may have started with me—or, more accurately, with the Lord,” he admitted. “But Scott took it to heart, though he'll be the first to admit that he struggled mightily with it. Sometimes it's easier to forgive others than to forgive ourselves, you know. But in the end, he felt the healing power of God.”

Jess looked at him wistfully. “I wish I could.”

“You can. You just have to ask for forgiveness—and most important, be willing to follow His example by forgiving others.”

She drew a deep breath. “Even if that leads into dangerous waters?”

He eyed her shrewdly. “Anything that requires a leap of faith involves a certain amount of danger, Jess. That's true of forgiveness. And trust. And love.”

Jess turned and gazed out again over the placid lake, wishing some of its serenity would seep into her soul. She tucked her hair behind her ear and drew a steadying breath. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

“Of course.”

“Sometimes I—I think I'm falling in love again with Scott,” she whispered.

“Is that bad?” he asked gently.

She looked at him in confusion. “I don't know. It feels wrong somehow, like I'm dishonoring the memory of Elizabeth by accepting back into my life the man who caused her death.”

Reverend Young studied her for a moment. “You know, Jess, I visited Scott regularly when he was in prison. We had a lot of long talks. Many of them about Elizabeth. And I lost track of the number of times he broke down and wept bitterly over her death. I can tell you with absolute certainty that no man ever loved his daughter more than Scott. Her loss was as devastating to him as it was to you. So I don't really think there's a conflict between your feelings for Scott and your love for Elizabeth. In fact, I believe that one of the best ways for you to honor the memory of Elizabeth would be to love her father—who loved her with all his heart.”

Jess stared at Reverend Young. Could he possibly be right? she wondered in shock. Was loving Scott respectful of—rather than a violation of—the memory of Elizabeth? Or was the minister telling her this just because he was looking out for Scott's best interests? Yet she saw only conviction and honesty in the man's eyes. Dear God, she wanted to believe him! Desperately! Because if she did, there would be one less worry on her mind. One less obstacle to forgiveness. And she would be one step closer to making peace with her past.

“You don't have to make any decisions until you're ready,” Reverend Young reassured her with an understanding smile. “Just think about it. Pray about it. And answers will come—in God's time.” He stood and reached out to take her hand in a warm clasp. “I'll keep you in my prayers. And now I'll leave you to enjoy this beautiful spot in peace.”

Jess watched the minister disappear down the flagstone path, then turned back to the quiet lake. Peace. Even the word had a lovely sound, she thought wistfully, savoring the echo of it in her mind. For four years it had been absent from her vocabulary. And from her life. In fact, she'd begun to believe that it had disappeared forever.

But suddenly, for the first time in a very long while, she felt the stirrings of hope in her heart. Reverend Young's comments had given her new insights and new options about how to deal with her situation. And if he was right, maybe she would find—through reconciliation—the peace that had been so elusive.

Now she just needed the courage to follow her heart.

 

“…heard the latest about Scott Mitchell?”

“I knew he got out.”

“That's not the half of it. Get this…he and Jess are living together!”

Jess stopped abruptly, hidden by a bank of greenery from the women whose conversation she had inadvertently overheard at the restaurant where she was meeting Scott for lunch. She recognized the voices—the wives of two of Scott's former business associates
with whom she and Scott had gone out socially on a number of occasions.

“You're kidding! Why in the world would she take up with him again? He's an ex-con, for heaven's sake!”

“I have no idea. She could certainly do better than that. I mean, what can he offer her? His career is toast. Brian saw him planting flowers at an office building downtown. He must work for a nursery or something. Manual labor—do you believe it? Which probably pays dirt—pardon the pun.”

The other woman chuckled. “Cute. Anyway, that's probably all he could get. After all, who'd want to hire an ex-con?”

“Yeah. So much for the good life. No more power lunches or country clubs or filet mignon for him.”

“Not exactly the fast track.”

“Not exactly
any
track.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe one day he could move up to shrubs. Or even shade trees. Or maybe Jess could support him.”

Jess had become increasingly incensed as she listened to the conversation, but the two women's laughter was what drove her over the edge. Without even stopping to think, she stepped around the greenery.