Scott grinned. “You sound like Seth.”
The minister chuckled. “He’s quite a philosopher, isn’t he?” As they prepared to part, the minister laid a hand on Scott’s shoulder, his eyes once more serious. “Hang in there, okay? I’ll keep you in my prayers.”
Scott took the minister’s hand in a firm clasp. “Thanks. I can use them.”
The minister smiled. “That’s my job. You plant trees. I plant prayers. But both send out roots. We just need to do our part.”
Scott thought about the aptness of Reverend Young’s analogy as he headed back to his apartment. The visible signs of his relationship with Jess, the arching branches and beautiful blooms, had been ruthlessly chopped off at ground level. To the eye it had died. But Scott believed with all his heart that the roots were still there, filled with life. That with nurturing, tender new shoots would spring from the parched ground.
It was up to him to make that happen. And with the Lord’s help and guidance, he would find a way.
Chapter Three
Jess glanced at her bedside clock and groaned. Three in the morning—only ten minutes later than when she’d last checked. Since going to bed four hours earlier, she’d logged all of thirty minutes’ sleep, she calculated wearily. This was going to be one of those nights. Meaning tomorrow would be a very long day at work.
With a resigned sigh she threw back the covers, swung her feet to the floor and reached for her robe. Maybe a soothing cup of herbal tea would help, she thought hopefully as she padded toward the kitchen. Mechanically she filled the kettle, turned on the stove, dropped a tea bag into a mug. But her mind was elsewhere. Namely, on her encounter with Scott the day before.
She’d slept little last night and had spent most of today trying, with some success, to avoid thinking about Scott. But she had far less control over her subconscious thoughts, and they kept bubbling to the surface each time she began to drift to sleep.
The whistle of the kettle distracted her momentarily, and she automatically went through the motions of making her tea. Then she carried it to the living room and sank into a comfortable chair, letting her gaze rest on the photograph of Elizabeth prominently displayed on the coffee table. Her daughter’s smile was infectious, her four-year-old eyes bright with enthusiasm and lively intelligence and the sheer joy of life so common in the very young. She would be almost eight now. Finishing up second grade. Looking far more grown-up than she had in this photo.
If.
Jess drew an unsteady breath. She knew it didn’t do any good to keep rehashing the past. To keep asking the “what if?” questions. Her therapist had stressed that over and over again. You had to deal with the bad things in your life, then move on. And Jess had done that. She’d put the “what ifs” aside, learned to deal with her pain and then established a new career—and a new life. No, it wasn’t totally “normal” yet. She still didn’t sleep well. She didn’t eat enough. And despite the support of her family, a deep, aching loneliness was still her constant companion. But no one knew that. In fact, few people outside her family would ever guess the trauma she’d been through. So yes, she had moved on. And she’d felt good about the progress she’d made.
Until now.
Because Scott’s return had completely unsettled her, resurrecting doubts and emotions and questions that she thought had been laid to rest long ago. It had been easy to hate him, to blame him for everything, to think of him as cold and uncaring, when he was miles away. It was a whole lot harder when he stood three feet in front of her, his eyes filled with anguish and regret.
His physical presence also made her remember all too clearly the love and intimacy they had shared before ambition distracted his attention from the things that really mattered. It was one thing to dream about those things from the past, and a different thing altogether to have the subject of those dreams stand only an outstretched hand away in the present.
And she certainly hadn’t expected him to still love her. Not after the hateful things she’d said to him when Elizabeth died. Not after the cold, bitter note she’d sent him following the accident. Not after years of ignoring his letters. Nor had she expected his gentleness, or the quiet calm that seemed to reflect an inner peace and an acceptance of the past, as if he’d come to grips with what he’d done and found a way to live with it.
Her chaotic emotions, her sudden doubt and uncertainty, made her wonder whether she’d been deluding herself all along. Had she really dealt with the past, or simply ignored it, focusing on the events while burying the real issues deep in the recesses of her mind and heart unresolved—and still raw? If she had truly resolved her issues and put the past behind her, wouldn’t she feel some of the quiet calm, the acceptance, that she’d seen in the depths of Scott’s eyes? And if she had truly written Scott off, hated him as deeply as she’d convinced herself she did, wouldn’t she have been able to sustain her righteous anger and dismiss him without a second thought? Wouldn’t she have been able to ignore the love and regret in his eyes?
Wearily Jess let her head drop back against the upholstered chair. The answer to those questions was obvious: yes. But in reality, she felt far from calm. She hadn’t been able to dismiss him. And she hadn’t been able to ignore the emotions she saw in his eyes. Like it or not, Scott’s presence had disrupted her carefully reconstructed existence.
For more than three years, Jess had suppressed memories of the life she’d shared with Scott. But now she could no longer keep them at bay. So with a resigned sigh she let them flow.
Jess thought back to their first encounter, in a business meeting. They’d done no more than shake hands and say a few words, but the spark that leapt between them had made her nerve endings sizzle and left her stunned. He had looked equally dazed. So she hadn’t been in the least surprised when he’d called the next day and asked her out.
From their very first date, Jess had known that Scott was the man she would marry. And when she’d walked down the aisle with him a year and a half later, her heart overflowing with love, she’d looked forward with joy to the life they would build together as husband and wife.
The first few years of their marriage had more than lived up to her expectations, she recalled wistfully. They cooked together, laughing over exotic new recipes. They gardened, a passion they both shared. They took weekend hiking trips. And when Elizabeth came, bringing a new joy and closeness to their relationship, Jess willingly gave up her public relations job to be a full-time mother. It was a decision she and Scott made jointly and with absolute conviction. Her joy seemed complete.
But as Scott began to climb the corporate ladder, things started to change. Slowly at first. In manageable increments. A late night at the office here. A missed family event there. Jess could handle those. She understood that there would be occasional conflicts between work and personal life. What she didn’t realize was that those minor changes were only previews of the major ones to come. Because Scott had been “noticed” by the right people. His talents had been recognized. And as a result, career demands increased. “Rising young executives,” it seemed, were expected to put their jobs first. Always. Period.
Jess tried to cope with Scott’s increased absences and his growing distraction. She watched with alarm as his job became the center of his life. Between his cell phone, e-mail and pager he was never able to get away from the office. She kept telling herself that in time the demands would ease. But as the months, then years, went by and the pace only intensified, she realized that things would never change unless Scott changed them.
So Jess tried to talk to him about it. Repeatedly. But the conversations always followed the same script.
“What do you want me to do about it, Jess?”