Never Say Goodbye. Irene Hannon
is one thing, Scott,” she’d reply earnestly. “But I don’t need that huge new house you’ve been talking about. Or the new car. Or a diamond bracelet for Christmas. I’m perfectly happy with simple things. Maybe you could change agencies, find a less demanding job. One that would give us more time to spend together.”
He would frown then, the conflict in his eyes apparent. “I know I haven’t been around as much as you’d like, Jess. But people don’t just walk away from jobs like this.”
“Why not?”
The question was always met with a sigh of exasperation. “I worked too hard to give all this up now.”
“Give what up? The country club membership? The designer suits? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“Is there something wrong with those things?” he’d ask defensively.
“No. Only when they come at the expense of other, more important things.”
“I’m doing the best I can to balance everything, Jess. I’ll just have to try harder, I guess.”
And that’s where the conversation would always end. In a stalemate.
Two years into that lifestyle and after numerous dead-end conversations on the subject, Jess began to notice another disturbing change in Scott’s behavior. He’d always enjoyed a glass of wine with a special dinner, a beer while cutting the grass on the weekend.
But now he went for the harder stuff. A gin and tonic became his standard way to unwind at the end of a long day. And at social gatherings he drank far more than was prudent. It was one more worry for Jess to add to her growing list.
But there were good times, too. Scott was a wonderful father—when he was home. He never looked more relaxed or happy than when he was playing with Elizabeth. And she adored him, reaching out her small chubby arms to him and laughing with glee when he appeared. They had good moments as a couple, as well. In the small hours of the morning he would sometimes curl up behind her, stroke her body and whisper words of love that made her heart ache with tenderness—and with a bittersweet pang for the days when making time for love had been his first priority.
And then tragedy struck. The death of her beloved daughter. Bitterness. Recriminations. The end of their marriage in everything but name. The death of her dream for a happily-ever-after life.
Jess felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and she reached up to wipe it away. With an unsteady hand she raised the mug to her lips and took a sip.
But her tea had grown cold.
Just like her life.
“You look tired, honey. Are you feeling okay?”
Jess glanced at her mother. She usually enjoyed the weekly evening with her parents, but she’d dreaded tonight’s dinner. She’d done her best to camouflage the dark circles under her eyes, the result of several almost sleepless nights, but obviously her makeup skills hadn’t been up to the task.
“It’s been busy at the office,” she hedged.
“I’m looking forward to the iris show,” Frank remarked.
“So am I,” Jess said with a smile. Taking her parents to see the gardens when the irises were at their peak, followed by an elegant brunch in one of the downtown hotels, had become an eagerly anticipated annual outing.
“Speaking of flowers, I need to order some mulch for the rose beds. And I think I lost my Mr. Lincoln this winter. I’ll have to replace that as soon as the shipments come in.” He turned to Jess. “I’m planning to extend the back garden and add a few more bushes this year.”
She smiled. Her father’s rose garden was a neighborhood legend. “How many do you have now, Dad?”
“Forty-five.”
“I don’t know why you even bother going down to the botanical garden. You have your own right here.”
He looked pleased. “Mostly roses, though. I like to look at all the other flowers, too.”
“So have you been working longer hours?” Clare asked Jess, doggedly returning to her earlier line of questioning.
Jess toyed with the food on her plate, and took a deep breath. She might as well tell them about Scott’s visit. After all, they were all adults. They could discuss the situation rationally. “Yes. And not sleeping very well for the past few days. Scott came by on Saturday.”
Her father stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, then threw his napkin on the table and stood. “That’s it. I’m calling John Kane. We’ll put a stop to this.”
So much for rational discussion, Jess thought ruefully. This was the reaction she’d been afraid of. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Dad.”
He planted his fists on his hips. “Are you telling me that you’re not upset by these contacts?”
“No. But he’ll get the message eventually.”
“He’ll get it a lot faster if he gets slapped with a restraining order.”
He’d also get in trouble. Probably big trouble, Jess figured. She doubted the criminal justice system showed much mercy to newly released prisoners who were accused of harassment. And after looking into his eyes, she just couldn’t do that to him.
“Let it go for now, Dad,” she said quietly. “I’ll think about it if this keeps up.”
Her father studied her appraisingly. “What did he say to you?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Just that he was sorry.”
Frank snorted. “It’s a little late for that.”
“I told him the same thing.”
“Did you also tell him to leave you alone?”
“More or less. I shut the door in his face.”
“I don’t like this, Jess,” Clare said, clearly worried. “It’s been a hard few years for you. You don’t need to have your life disrupted again.”
Jess didn’t disagree. The trouble was, her life was already disrupted.
When she didn’t respond, Frank spoke again. “Your mother’s right, Jess. You’ve been through enough.”
Jess looked at her parents. They’d always been overly protective of their only daughter. And while she deeply valued their support and understanding and unqualified love, this was a decision she had to make on her own. She’d been affected by Scott’s return in ways she didn’t quite understand. And until she did, until she made sense of her chaotic emotions and thoughts, she was reluctant to take any action.
“I appreciate your concern. But I want to give this a little time,” she said firmly.
There was silence around the table for a moment, and then Clare spoke. “It’s her decision, Frank. She’ll let us know if she wants us to step in.”
Jess sent her mother a grateful look, then transferred her gaze to her father. He frowned in disapproval and seemed poised to make another comment. But after a moment he silently took his seat instead, confining his response to a single sentence.
“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