Читать книгу The Goodbye Groom - Ellen James - Страница 11

When Jamie reached Seattle, she had to attend to a few details. Namely she had to see about a rental car. She could not, after all, go chasing her fugitive fiancé by taxi or bus.

As she completed the necessary paperwork, the question that had plagued her ever since her arrival in Washington state surfaced yet again.

What am I doing here?

Was it sheer stubbornness? Was it as simple as refusing to accept what had happened to her at the altar? Rather too forcefully, Jamie signed her name on the rental-car agreement. As she walked across the lot and inspected the small cream sedan assigned to her, she realized her presence here wasn’t as simple as the last-minute loss of a fiancé. That hurt had merely scratched the surface of a much deeper wound she held inside her.

She asked herself again, What am I really doing here?

A childhood memory came to her now, unbidden. That day, not long after her father had left, the snow falling thick and fast outside, unusually intense for a New Mexico winter. And Jamie, face pressed to the window, the glass cold against her cheek, straining to see through the flurry. Straining to see her dad coming up the walk, returning to her. Her mother, sitting rigidly in one of the living room chairs, pretending to read, but then, at last, setting the book down with a gesture of exasperation. “He’s not coming, Jamie. He’s never coming back. Accept it.”

Jamie climbed into the vehicle and stared, unseeing, out the windshield for a moment. She would not—could not—believe that Shawn’s feelings for her had been mere illusion. She would not—could not—make the same mistakes as her mother. Caroline Williams had never truly fought for her own happiness. Instead she had held on to her pride for almost twenty long years. But pride didn’t protect you from a broken heart. It only prolonged the heartache.

Jamie turned the key in the ignition. All this time, her mother had been unable to confront the more painful dilemmas of her marriage and divorce. She’d retreated instead, as if to keep her dignity intact. But Jamie refused to retreat.

Pressing her foot down on the gas, she drove a little too quickly out of the lot. The rental-car company had provided her with a map and, despite the heavy traffic of the city, it didn’t take her long to find Shawn’s neighborhood—a tumble of exclusive homes clinging gracefully to a hillside. Shawn’s house was a striking angular design, all shining glass and concrete beams. Jamie climbed out of the car, her heart thumping. She might be confronting Shawn in only a second or two.

No such luck. She stood on the porch and rang the doorbell three times. Jamie waited for what seemed an eternity, then rang again. She waited some more. The sleek rows of windows surrounding her seemed to reflect back only emptiness.

Jamie went down the steps and turned so that she’d have a better look at the place. It was brash and elegant all at once. On the one hand, she could see the attraction. This house made a definitive, commanding statement, even while lending itself to the foliage all around. On the other hand…

It was not at all the type of home that she and Shawn had so often discussed. They’d talked about the quaint fixer-upper they’d find one day. They’d imagined spending long weekends together remodeling it or searching for antiques to furnish it. Eventually, of course, the house would be filled with the laughter and happy chaos of children—at least two. A dog to complete the picture…

This house did not seem like the type of place that would welcome children. Jamie couldn’t imagine smudge prints on all those spotless windows or a bicycle sprawled on the immaculately clipped lawn. Professional gardening service, no doubt. Jamie couldn’t envision Shawn pushing a mower here. Yet he’d talked about how much he enjoyed physical work, all the details of rehabilitating a home: weeding and landscaping, not to mention tearing down walls, putting up new ones, sanding and tiling and painting.

This house was too perfect. It would reject any such friendly tampering.

Jamie was more confused than ever. Shawn had always seemed so content, so pleased to be sharing those homey, everyday dreams with her. He couldn’t have been pretending…could he?

Jamie turned and went back to her car. She felt as if she were that child all over again, imprisoned in the house by snow. Trapped by her own inability to open the door and seek what she had lost…

If Shawn had genuinely shared her dreams, why had he left her? Why hadn’t he shared all of his life with her? And why, dammit, had she been so blinded by love? Had she missed warning signs she might have seen otherwise?

Jamie was shaking inside. She sat in the car for a long time, gazing out the windshield. The flurry of unanswered questions tormented her. Perhaps the most insistent of all: What am I really doing here?

Finally, she placed her hands, which had steadied, on the wheel and pressed her foot on the gas once more.

IT OCCURRED TO ERIC that his Seattle office, of late, suffered from a split personality. A crisis of identity. It had all the necessary business accoutrements—executive desk, state-of-the-art computer, digital scanner—but one large corner had recently been converted into a play area, complete with puzzles, building blocks and stuffed animals. Taking pride of place were a long-lashed giraffe and a woolly mammoth.

Could you really run a company and at the same time compensate for having been a less-than-stellar father? Eric was trying to find out just that. He’d arranged his schedule so that he could work from home whenever possible, as well as bring Kaitlin into the office with him. He was trying to juggle everything in his life without dropping a ball. His gaze strayed toward the framed photographs displayed on his desk. Kaitlin’s school portrait from last year, as well as a picture of her when she was only a few months old.

The first time Eric had held his daughter, everything had seemed possible to him. Her tiny fingers had curled around his. Odd, in a way, that such a small bundle of pink had made him feel invincible. But his child had needed him, depended on him, so of course he would be strong. Of course he would conquer the world. But even then she’d looked up at him solemnly, as if already searching the depths and complexities of their future together.

Had he begun to fail her even then? Had he spent too much time pursuing his work responsibilities and not enough time simply being her dad? Had he too often gone through the motions of being a father?

A sound at the doorway drew him from his brooding thoughts. He saw Jamie Williams framed there as if in a painting. The clear hazel of her eyes, the nuances of red and gold in her hair, the warm tone of her skin, as if a touch of sunlight had been captured there, created a palette of colors.

It hadn’t been all that long since he’d seen her—he’d driven her to the ferry only this morning—but he found himself analyzing certain facets of her as if for the first time. The determined tilt of her chin, the sexy curves hinted at by that dress…

Eric rubbed his neck where that inconvenient crick seemed to have lodged of late. He reminded himself that Jamie Williams was his brother’s problem.

Jamie’s expressive face conveyed evident frustration. “I thought—I’d hoped, anyway…” Her voice trailed off. He knew exactly what she’d hoped: to find Shawn here.

Jamie seemed to be reordering her thoughts. She stepped into the office. “I didn’t imagine you’d be here,” she said. “You’d mentioned staying on the island today.”

“Change of plans,” he told her. “Happens more often than I’d like. Minor business emergencies. I suppose you’ve already been to Shawn’s house.”

“Yes.”

“And he wasn’t there.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Afraid there’s no sign of him here, although our receptionist tells me Shawn called to check his messages early this morning—without leaving a word about where he was…or when he would return.”

Jamie appeared to tense at this information, but afterward the two of them seemed to run out of conversation. She stood halfway between the door and his desk, a slight frown on her face. Too bad Eric couldn’t tell her what she needed to know, but he didn’t have any insights to offer.

“Well,” Jamie said at last. “It seems I’m at a dead end.”

Eric went to pull out the chair on the other side of his desk. “Have a seat,” he said. “And maybe…” Hell, what did he mean to say? That he’d brainstorm with her, try to think where Shawn could be? Bad idea. The best thing for her to do was go back to New Mexico and forget all about his brother.

She hesitated for a moment, but then she did sit down. Eric leaned against a corner of his desk. Jamie made a gesture that seemed to convey the futility of her situation.

“I just don’t believe this,” she muttered. “What do I do next—where do I go from here? Before Shawn, I always knew where I was headed. I could see tomorrow and the next day and the next. But now…”

There’d once been a time when Eric had been able to see his own way clearly. These days, however, clarity of vision was not so easy to come by.

“He has to show up sooner or later,” Eric said. “He is half of this company, after all.”

“You don’t sound too optimistic about that.”

“Shawn always has kept his own schedule,” Eric had to admit. “Although he has a job title and a job description, he tends to neglect the day-to-day.”

Jamie drew her eyebrows together. “Nonetheless, clearly he has responsibilities here. Why didn’t he tell me any of this? What was he even doing in New Mexico?”

“Perhaps it was something of an escape.”

Jamie gave him a hard look. “Escape. Why would he need that?”

He’d been mulling over certain possibilities, certain explanations for Shawn’s behavior, but now he pulled back. It was useless, damaging speculation.

When he didn’t answer, Jamie gave a weary shrug. “Very well, I understand. There are things you simply don’t want to talk about where Shawn’s concerned. But why didn’t he ever tell me about his family, about his work…about his life?”

Why, indeed.

Eric regarded Jamie, and she seemed to grow annoyed with his scrutiny. She sat up a bit straighter.

“I can guess what you’re thinking. You’re trying to figure out what I’m doing here at all. Why didn’t I just stay at home and nurse my wounds in private, like a normal jilted fiancée?”

It occurred to Eric that he felt a reluctant admiration for Jamie Williams, precisely because she hadn’t stayed at home to hide out. Clearly she was a fighter. She had courage. But that didn’t change the fact that she was his brother’s concern, not his.

“Jamie,” Eric said, “Shawn could be anywhere right now.”

“So I should just give up and go back to Albuquerque?” She gave Eric another sharp glance. “You’re almost starting to look relieved. You’d like to think of me boarding a plane tomorrow, heading back to New Mexico. Another of Shawn’s messes resolved—or at least out of your way.”

Jamie Williams was a little too astute. He’d definitely been thinking along those lines. They looked at each other, and tension seemed to thrum between them. She was a beautiful, desirable woman who’d been mistreated by his brother. And, yes, he’d be relieved when she returned to her own life.

Just then, his daughter appeared in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a stack of file folders. When Kaitlin saw Jamie, she took a step back as if suddenly unsure. Yesterday she’d obtained a certain ease with Jamie, but that seemed to have vanished. Did she have difficulty trusting anyone these days?

“Hey there, peanut,” Eric said. “Thanks for helping Mrs. Lewis with those copies.”

Kaitlin nodded briefly and slid over next to him. She placed the files very carefully on the desk.

Jamie addressed Kaitlin gravely. “Why, hello there, Ms. Sinclair. I asked to speak to the president of the company, and they sent me right here to you.”

Kaitlin seemed to consider this statement, but then dropped her gaze. A tough customer, his daughter.

“That’s a nice outfit,” Jamie went on, apparently undaunted.

Kaitlin fingered the material of her checked blue shirt.

Jamie glanced toward the corner where Kaitlin’s blocks and puzzles and stuffed animals were scattered. She paused, as if debating something with herself. But then, as if she had all the time in the world, she strolled over and sat down on the floor among the toys, the skirt of her dress swirling around her. She gathered some random blocks and began stacking them one on top of the other. She didn’t so much as glance at Kaitlin, behaved as if she couldn’t care less whether anyone joined her.

For a minute or two Kaitlin remained right where she was, pressed against Eric’s desk as if to barricade herself. But then, at last, she sat down next to Jamie on the floor, too. She gathered some blocks and began making her own stack.

Over the next several moments Eric watched the interaction between his daughter and Jamie. Anyone else might say it was almost nonexistent. Jamie seemed intent on making her own tower of blocks and didn’t even glance over to look at what Kaitlin was doing. And that appeared to be exactly what Kaitlin needed. His daughter became absorbed in her own endeavor, trying to see just how high she could go.

Companionable silence. That was what the two of them were sharing.

Eric settled back, studying Jamie. She looked perfectly natural sitting on the floor next to one of Kaitlin’s favorite stuffed animals—a baby cheetah. She behaved as if she had no pressing problems on her mind, no search for a wayward groom in progress. She’d come here hoping to find Shawn and instead she was entertaining Eric’s daughter.

Again, entertain was probably not the proper term. Jamie seemed to be creating an atmosphere where his daughter could occupy herself without worry or self-consciousness. Kaitlin placed yet another block on her towering creation, then another, making her own skyscraper.

The last block was the fatal one. The whole pile toppled down as Kaitlin watched in dismay. So much for not worrying. His daughter looked as crestfallen as if she had demolished a real building.

“That,” said Jamie, “was stupendous. Here—watch this.” She enthusiastically sent her own tower of blocks crashing downward.

Kaitlin stifled a giggle, but not before Eric saw a trace of a smile. Undeniably, over the past several months, his daughter had grown too serious. Divorce was a serious matter, of course, but couldn’t he and Leah have done more to lighten the atmosphere for their child? They’d tried to do their best, to be unfailingly polite to each other in Kaitlin’s presence, to explain matters to her in clear, reassuring terms. He and Leah had also agreed that Kaitlin should see a counselor regularly to help her through this difficult transition. It had all been so well-meaning and earnest, so logical and carefully devoid of hurtful emotion. In the process, however, they’d dampened other emotions, such as simple happiness. No wonder Kaitlin tried to keep a tight rein over her feelings. She was imitating her parents.

Now Jamie and Kaitlin went back to stacking blocks, but they made a pile together this time. Jamie set one block in place, then waited as Kaitlin set her own block on top. Back and forth they went, taking turns. Another block, then another, higher and higher. Kaitlin’s eyes sparkled. The pile grew and grew, becoming wonderfully precarious. And then, at last, the tower came crashing down. This time Kaitlin had to clap both hands over her mouth.

Jamie leaned toward Kaitlin. “Isn’t mess fun?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

Kaitlin nodded her head in agreement.

No one else might see anything of great significance happening here—just a woman and a little girl playing together—but Eric did.

Jamie Williams was special and unique. She seemed to know the secret to reaching his daughter.

In fact, Jamie Williams seemed to have something that his daughter needed.

“HELLO, MOM,” JAMIE SAID, gripping her cell phone perhaps a bit too tightly. One call from her mother and all the old emotions had kicked in.

“Jamie, I knew you wouldn’t find him.” Caroline Williams almost sounded pleased—in her dire sort of way. Expecting the worst had become her specialty. Jamie’s response was to pace back and forth in her Seattle hotel room. Eric had offered to put her up another night at his island home, but she’d decided to stay in the city. She needed solitude right now, a chance to gather her thoughts.

“I told you it was a mistake to go up there. Of course, you never listen. A letter came today, Jamie. By messenger. From him.”

Jamie felt herself go rigid.

“No return address,” Caroline went on in a biting tone. “That’s just like him, isn’t it?”

Jamie tried to think of some normal, ordinary way to proceed. A letter from Shawn. The lump in her throat was so large she could hardly speak. Only with effort did she get the words out. “I suppose—if you would just forward it to me—”

“I could…if I hadn’t already opened it.”

That was typical Caroline Williams. Jamie supposed she ought to feel outrage at her mother’s high-handed behavior, but at the moment she couldn’t seem to feel anything at all. A strange numbness had enveloped her.

“I’ll read it, of course.” Caroline gave a discreet cough, as if about to deliver a speech. “‘Dear Jamie…’ Can you believe it? He leaves you at the altar and then has the gall to write you a ‘Dear Jamie’ letter.”

“Mother.”

“Yes, very well. ‘Dear Jamie… You must hate me by now. You should hate me.’” Caroline Williams made a derisive sound. “Why, how kind of him. Giving us permission to despise him—”

“Mother,” Jamie repeated. She sank down in the room’s one armchair. “Please read it all the way through—without the commentary.”

“All right.” Caroline read on. “‘What I’ve done is terrible, unconscionable. I’m sorry, Jamie, more sorry than you’ll ever know. If only… Shawn.’”

Jamie closed her eyes. She’d experienced a sense of unreality listening to Shawn’s words spoken in her mother’s disparaging tone. If only… What did he mean? If only things had been different? If only he had loved her? If only they had another chance?

“That’s it,” said Caroline. “It’s really quite masterful when you think about it. An over-the-top, extravagant apology. Gives you everything and nothing at the same time. So he takes the heat and he leaves you with nothing but coldness underneath.”

Jamie considered throwing the phone across the room.

“Does he tell us why he left?” her mother persisted. “Does he give us any explanation? No, of course not. He doesn’t want to be real. He doesn’t want to be genuine. That would mean risking too much. Instead he gives us a smoke screen of excessive repentance—”