“Andrew, Maggie, I would like you to meet Jennifer St. James.” Scott’s hand around her waist felt very reassuring. Jennifer smiled at the couple as they all said hello. “Andrew in my executive vice president, Jennifer. He knows the business better than I do.”
The older man smiled. “Don’t believe everything he says, Jennifer. One of these days I may have to retire just to show him I’m not indispensable.”
“The day you do, I may resign,” Scott answered with a laugh. “Maggie, how’s your granddaughter? Still wrapping grandfather, here, around her little finger?”
The lady beamed. “In a big way.” She smiled at Jennifer. “Andrew spent the weekend putting up a swing set. My granddaughter is only six months old, but Andrew wanted us to be prepared. In case we ever have to baby-sit,” Maggie said, looking over with amusement at her husband.
He just grinned. “Scott, would you please tell Maggie you can never be too prepared?”
Scott, his attention caught by an emotion that had flickered across Jennifer’s face, feeling her sudden tension, had to force himself back to the conversation. He offered a soft smile to Maggie. “Maggie, I think he’s determined to always be prepared. You’ll have to humor him I’m afraid.”
Lord, what’s causing Jennifer this pain? I wanted her to have a relaxing night. I don’t know what’s wrong. Scott prayed the words silently as he shifted his arm to support more of Jennifer’s weight. “I hate to say hi and run, but we need to be going,” he said to his friends. “Maggie, it was a pleasure. Andrew.” Jennifer softly echoed his goodbyes.
They walked together to the car. Scott looked at her closed expression, could see the tension in her and knew she needed some space. He gave it to her. He turned on the radio, found a station still playing soft jazz. “Are you going to be okay?”
Jennifer finally nodded.
“I’ll have you home soon,” Scott promised.
It was a thirty-minute drive. When they reached her home, Scott came around to open the passenger door and escort her up the walk. She unlocked the front door, then hesitated. “I need some coffee. Would you like to stay and join me?”
Scott knew she must want this evening to simply end. But she was trying to make amends. He silently nodded. Jennifer gestured him toward the living room. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She was gone almost ten minutes. Scott didn’t crowd her. He walked around the living room. There was a Bible on the end table. Jennifer’s name was inscribed on the leather cover. He frowned briefly. What had Jennifer said? He had asked her over dinner where she attended church. “My husband was a very religious man. I haven’t been to church much since he died.”
Her home suggested that Christianity had not been just one-sided, at least not at some time in the past. There were Bible verses cross-stitched on the throw pillows, two of the pictures had verses of scripture stenciled in. Who knew where she stood now? Other than the clear fact that she was hurting, he did not have much to go on.
It bothered him to realize she had walked away from the one person who could help her heal. God. She had to have felt anger and shock when her husband died, the agony of why it had been allowed to happen would have naturally cut pretty deep. But after three years, there should not still be this distance from God. Was she simply stuck and didn’t know how to return? He was going to have to find a way to fix this.
She came back in, carrying their coffee.
Scott accepted the cup she offered him with a quiet thanks. He watched her warily. He had never seen this expression before, the quiet intensity that said she had made a decision.
“I think you chose the wrong time to get to know me, Scott.” She took a seat across from him when he sat down on the couch.
He tensed. He suspected this was heading somewhere he did not like. “Because of the memories?”
“Because I don’t want to get involved,” she replied. “Not now.”
He sighed. “Jennifer, you’re going to go through this, no matter how long you wait. The first time you venture out, the same set of circumstances is going to occur.”
“The memories are too raw, Scott. I can’t handle half a dozen flashbacks every day to a time when life was perfect. I’ll shatter.”
Scott winced at the image. “Was it perfect, Jen?” he asked carefully.
“For a time, yes, it was,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to leave, Jen? Say goodbye for good?”
She leaned her head back and looked over at him. “I want the past back,” she replied. She gave a half smile. “I sound like a spoiled child, wanting what I can’t have.” She sighed. “Scott, I don’t think I can even be a good friend right now. I don’t have the energy or the nerve to take a risk again.”
“Jen, I can’t take away the pain you are going through. But I can give you all the time you need, time without any strings attached.”
“I get nasty when I’m hurting,” Jennifer warned softly.
“I’ll survive,” he said firmly. “Just don’t hide Jennifer. I can’t deal with something I don’t know is there.”
You don’t know about Colleen. You don’t know how she died.
She looked at his eyes. He wasn’t ready to handle that level of her grief. Not yet. “Okay, Scott.”
“Good.”
Jennifer kicked off her shoes so she could tuck her feet beneath her.
“Would you like to try a simple dinner out this next week?”
She shook her head.
Scott looked disappointed. Before he could comment, Jennifer nodded toward her office. “I’ve got to get the first draft finished, or I’m going to lose my nerve to finish the series.”
He grimaced. “Work. I have used that excuse more times than I care to admit myself. What about the week after?”
“Any night but Monday,” Jennifer replied, giving him cart blanche to set her schedule. Monday nights her brother and his two boys came over to watch the football game.
“How about Thursday?”
“Sounds fine,” Jennifer agreed.
Scott nodded. “Thursday it is.” He couldn’t prevent the yawn. It had nothing to do with the company, it had simply been a very long, heavy week.
“Like a refill?” Jennifer asked, gesturing to his coffee cup.
“Please,” Scott replied.
Jennifer filled his cup then sat back down. “What other authors do you like to read?” she asked, then grinned. “Besides me?”
He laughed. They passed a pleasant hour, talking about books, authors they liked, then about movies they had seen. Jennifer happened to glance at her watch. “Scott, it’s twelve forty-five.”
He nodded. “You are right. I had better get going.” He got to his feet. He smiled. “I enjoyed tonight.”
“So did I,” she admitted.
She turned on the porch light and watched him start his car. He lifted a hand. She waved back, then quietly closed the door.
“You look tired. Late night?”
Scott’s sister, Heather, grinned as she asked the question, leaning over the back of the pew to get his attention. Busy cramming for the youth group lesson he had to give in twenty minutes, Scott just grinned and said, “Yes. Now go away, Twiggy. And don’t tell Mom.” The nickname she had picked up in high school had stuck. Scott ensured it got kept alive. She liked to protest, but he knew she would be hurt if he dropped