The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel (9 page)

Jackson fought for his poker face. He didn’t play poker, but he used it a great deal in his line of work. He didn’t know whether or not he should feel insulted, but he did—even though he respected her for saying it, and he knew she was right. He’d admitted to her that his relationships had been meaningless. How could he expect her to think anything more or less of him than that? He cleared his throat and said, “But it’s okay for me to be a meaningless relationship for Charlotte?”

“She likes meaningless relationships. I figured that gave the two of you something in common. Again, I apologize for being presumptuous. I was wrong.”

“How do you know I haven’t changed?” he asked. “Maybe I’ve come to set a higher priority on meaningful.”

“It’s readily evident that you can be a hard man to read, Agent.”

“Not always . . . Detective.” She shot him a skeptical glance, and he decided to just stop skirting the issue. This was challenging enough without infusing it with ridiculous games that only led to assumptions and misconceptions. “Now why don’t we just stop avoiding what we’re both thinking and clarify what’s going on here?”

He was surprised at how eagerly she responded to his breaking the ice. She looked at him firmly and said, “Why don’t we?”

“What did you read in my eyes that made you gasp and run off like a scared rabbit?”

“I wasn’t scared!” she insisted. “I was . . . I needed time . . . to process it.”

“And have you processed it?”

“A little.”

“And?”

Chas took a deep breath and just said it. “You’re attracted to me.”

“You inspire me,” he said, not as a correction but as an addition. “You make me want to be a better man. That’s not so difficult to process, is it?”

“No, but . . .”

“But?”

“I don’t know that the way we feel has any practical application. This is temporary, Jackson. We lead separate lives.”

“Point taken. But did I hear you say ‘the way
we
feel’? I must confess that I have no idea if you feel anything at all, or if you do, I wonder if you’d admit to it.” He paused and clarified, “Martin’s death hurt you very deeply.”

“Yes, it did.”

“I understand that feeling, Chas.”

“I believe you do . . . maybe . . . to some degree.”

“How
do
you feel, Chas?”

Their eyes connected firmly. “Truthfully, I’m not sure. Mostly I feel confused . . . and cautious.”

“I understand that feeling, too.”

She looked away. “I also feel exhausted, and I think we should continue this conversation tomorrow.”

“Promise?” he asked.

“I promise,” she said, wanting some time to think—and process.

Jackson came to his feet, figuring he’d been pushy enough for one day. And maybe tomorrow he would regret having brought it up at all. For now, it seemed they both needed a good night’s sleep and some time to think. Impulsively he bent over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thank you for a memorable day, Chas.”

“You’re welcome,” she said again, and he left the room.

CHAPTER 7

For all of Chas’s exhaustion she had difficulty sleeping. When she finally managed to doze off, she kept drifting in and out of sleep, mixed up in onslaughts of crazy dreams and hazy thoughts and memories. When dawn appeared, she lay staring at the ceiling, trying to come to some kind of conclusion, some understanding of how she really felt and what to do about it. She could feel a little angry—or at the very least defensive—to think of Jackson’s accusations that she was afraid to feel. But she had never been a person to be hurt or offended by criticism. She’d always just taken it in, sorted it out, decided whether or not it was valid, then either discarded it or applied it respectively. She
was
afraid to feel. With the exception of the children, everyone else present at Thanksgiving dinner knew that about her. As sharp as he was, why wouldn’t Jackson know that as well?

Once again she recounted her conversations with Jackson since sharing turkey and stuffing yesterday. Then she recounted every other conversation she’d shared with him since his arrival. Had she simply been so preprogrammed not to feel, or to think in the future tense, that she had closed herself off from seeing the incredible depth she’d seen in this man in such a short time? Especially when she considered the evidence she had that he was not normally so open. Then Chas took a deep breath, said a little prayer that she might be honest with herself and be guided by the Spirit, and asked the question she truly was afraid to ask. But not asking it felt out of character for herself. She felt troubled at the thought of having been in some degree of denial, and she didn’t want to stay there.

“Okay, Chas,” she said out loud, knowing the question would have more impact if she spoke it, “are
you
attracted to
him?”
She’d expected to have to ponder the answer for
some
length of time before the answer came. But it came with immediacy and force. Her heart began to pound, her stomach flipped over, and her palms went sweaty—just as they had yesterday when she’d been looking into his eyes and had been able to see the truth. Now she could see it in herself. “Heaven help me!” she muttered, then began an internal argument of all the reasons that being attracted to Jackson Leeds was a bad idea.

At the top of the list were the obvious ones. He didn’t share her religious beliefs, he lived in another state, and he lived a completely different lifestyle. She thought she might as well stop there. With such things to overcome, it would surely never work out. And
attraction
didn’t necessarily mean a blasted thing. That was right there in the mix with infatuation. Or at the very least, attraction was only prerequisite to the possibility of seeing if a relationship had any substance to it. Then it occurred to her that their relationship
did
have substance. She was startled by the sting of tears in her eyes to think of his tenderness with Granny and his interaction with the children. And his compassion regarding Martin. She considered herself a fairly discerning person. She’d been watching people come and go from this inn for years, and she prided herself on figuring people out. She hadn’t known Jackson long enough to know what he was
really
like beneath the parts of himself he’d chosen to expose to her. But she could still see that he was a good man with a good heart.

Considering him through new eyes and new perspective, she found it hard to believe that he had such a personal interest in her. That
was
what she’d seen in his eyes, right? She had to recount that to be sure. He’d as much as admitted to it later. “Heaven help me!” she said again, clutching her covers tightly as the room became lighter. Scared and confused, and at the same time almost giddy, Chas slid out of bed and onto her knees, offering up a lengthy prayer on behalf of handling this correctly and remaining appropriate for the circumstances. She wanted to behave as a righteous daughter of God, and she also wanted to be smart enough to avoid any personal disasters in her life—like falling for a man who would only leave her life and never come back.

When her prayer was finished, Chas remained on her knees, just trying to clear her mind of its noise in order to listen. It was something she usually found difficult to do. There were always thoughts bouncing around in there of one sort or another. But she figured her efforts had to be worth something. Getting no obvious answers, she made the bed and got into the shower. She was getting dressed when she heard footsteps on the stairs and knew it was Jackson coming down—for his morning run, no doubt. She heard the outside door open and close and peered through the curtains to see him jog onto the street. Her heart and stomach did that thing again, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything in regard to what she’d been praying for.

Chas went to check on Granny and helped her with her typical morning routine, but before going to the kitchen she had an urge to go back to her room and take just a couple of minutes with the scriptures. She normally did this every morning, but today her mind had been caught up in other things. She saved her more serious study for bedtime since it was a relaxing activity, and her mornings were always her busiest time of day. In the mornings, it was her habit to just let the scriptures fall open somewhere, read a verse that stood out, usually one that she had previously highlighted, then take it with her in her thoughts as she went about her day. Most of the time the scriptures she encountered held no specific meaning for any present situation, but once in a while she’d felt led to something that had really helped her through a difficult moment.

She wasn’t consciously thinking of Jackson when the book fell open to Alma, chapter thirty-six, but as she read the words, thoughts of him burst into her mind, accompanied by a warmth in her chest that made the message clear and undeniable. The Spirit wanted her to take notice of this scripture in regard to Jackson. She read it again, having to blink away tears to be able to read. Rarely had an answer come with such distinct clarity.
And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more. And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!

Chas pondered for several minutes what this meant, and knew in her heart that she could somehow make a difference in Jackson’s life, that perhaps by her example and her connection to him, she could help bring him to a place where his pain could be replaced by joy. She knew things that he didn’t know. She’d been blessed with opportunities that he’d never had. If she could plant even some tiny seeds in his heart about the gospel of Jesus Christ, that was surely a good thing.

Noting the time, she hurried to the kitchen to fix breakfast. She worked first on putting something together for Granny, while her mind still considered a tornado of thoughts. Recalling that she’d admitted to being attracted to Jackson, she wondered how that could possibly fit in with doing her part to help bring him to Christ. She could do that by being his friend. She couldn’t deny that they
had
become friends. They’d shared some pretty strong and sensitive conversations. But now it seemed to be evolving into something beyond friendship, or at least hinting at it. All she could think of was the futility of such a relationship—to any degree. Then quiet thoughts appeared in her head with more subtlety and less fanfare than the answer she’d gotten while reading the scripture verses, but no less undeniable.
Find joy in this time. Open your heart. Remain steadfast and immovable. God will take care of the rest.

Chas sat down to take in this new and very clear answer. She’d gotten more direct personal revelation in the last twenty minutes than she’d gotten in a year. Apparently the situation was important to God, so it was obvious that it needed to be important to her. In that moment she knew that Jackson had not ended up at this place accidentally. And she just needed to follow her feelings and trust them—as she always had—with the confidence of knowing that she did her best to live a righteous life, and therefore the Spirit would guide her if she was in need of guidance. Connecting the dots, it occurred to her in a way that felt completely right and natural that it was not only okay to acknowledge that she was attracted to this man; it was a good thing—even if she didn’t fully understand why, or if the end results were not what either of them might want or hope for. As long as she stayed true to her values and remained appropriately cautious, it was good and right for her to find joy in this time. She could almost imagine Martin saying to her, “It’s high time you started opening your heart. I approve.” Chas chuckled at the thought of Martin talking to her, but if she repeated the notion to Granny, the old woman would have been certain it was true. Chas didn’t know whether or not it was. She only knew that she felt happy and positive with the prospect of the day. Jackson Leeds was a guest at the inn, and she was the innkeeper. How great was that!

Chas hurried to take Granny her breakfast and see that all was well, then she started working on breakfast for her and Jackson, smiling when she heard him coming down the stairs.

Jackson entered the dining room and heard Chas call, “The coffee is hot. Make yourself comfortable. I’m a little behind schedule.”

“I don’t have any appointments to get to,” he called back and picked up
USA the Day before Yesterday
. But that was okay, since he hadn’t read it yesterday. He heard dishes being set on the table in front of him but kept reading and said, “Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what to expect from Chas after what had been said between them last night. All he knew was that he’d probably been way too bold and way too open. The vulnerability and exposure had almost made him sick in retrospect, and he was determined to be a little more disciplined in her presence, and spend a lot more time reading—as he’d intended to do when he’d first come here.

“We should bless it,” he heard her say, and he folded the paper down to see her sitting across from him, and breakfast for two ready to eat.

“Go for it,” he said and set the paper aside. She smiled at him before she bowed her head to pray. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this. She seemed cheerful and bright—which was actually typical for her, except that he’d expected her to be more cautious, reserved, perhaps afraid after what had been said. Perhaps she was only deeper in denial.

After the prayer, they both began to eat. Fresh fruit of one kind or another was always present at breakfast. But today it accompanied crispy hash browns mixed with ground sausage, and scrambled eggs on the side. “It’s good,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Breakfast
is
included with the room, you know.”

“So I’ve heard. But you haven’t told me how much extra it’s going to cost me to have the innkeeper dine with me.”

“Oh, that’s just good luck on your behalf.” She smirked and added, “Or mine.”

Jackson studied her eyes, and his heart quickened. He was expecting her to be put off by his prior admissions. But there was no denying the meaning in that look. He wanted to find a way to comment, but she went on to say, “How do you usually spend your Thanksgivings?”

“I usually have at least one invitation to choose from . . . to spend it with the family of a friend.”

“But no family of your own?”

“No, I’ve already told you that.”

“Just clarifying. So . . .” she drawled and twirled her fork a little, “are these really
good
friends, or just . . . friends.”

“When I figure out what that means, I’ll answer it.”

She chuckled. “Are they the kind of friends you’d tell every secret to and go to for difficult advice, or are they people you just know well enough to eat Thanksgiving dinner with?”

“Like you, you mean?”

“Would you say that we’re friends?” she asked.

“Absolutely.”

“But not the ‘share secrets and advice’ kind of friends.”

“I don’t know.” He leaned back and took a sip of coffee. “I’ve told
you
more about my life than most of the people I might have Thanksgiving dinner with.”

Chas looked astonished. “What does that make me?”

“One of the best friends I’ve ever had,” he said, figuring he was past any concern for making a fool of himself, and it just wasn’t in him to play games about stuff like this.

Still, he was relieved when she responded with casual reticence, “If that’s true, then your life truly is pathetic. That is sad.”

“That all depends on how you look at it.” He took a bite of food, then waited until he’d swallowed to finish. “As I see it, that makes the past sad, and the present pretty good.”

“And the future?”

“I think that sometimes you need to gather more information about the present before you can determine any outcome.”

Chas took that in and felt comfortable—and comforted. They were thinking the same way. That was a good sign. She smiled and said, “That sounded terribly scientific and practical to me.”

“For all of my feeling out of my mind most of the time since I got here, that’s the kind of person I usually am. And I think that’s the way you are, too. You far prefer practical assessment and logical analysis to anything too emotional.” She didn’t argue, and he added, “Which is why we’re both avoiding what we talked about last night. The issue is way out of the comfort zone for both of us.”

“At least we’re in the boat together.”

“What?”

“It’s a figure of speech, Jackson. You know, being in the same boat.”

“Yes.”

“And this boat is sailing away from our comfort zones. But at least we’re in it together.”

“Are we?” he asked, just needing to hear her say it.

She smirked and sipped her cocoa. “Are you challenging me to prove that I can handle being in the boat? Are you wondering if I can talk about it?”

“Can you?”

“Can
you?”
she countered.

“I asked first.”

“Fine. I can talk about it. You admitted that you’re attracted to me.”