On the Ropes (21 page)

But, she couldn’t have it.

When she came again, clawing at his back, it was with tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

It wasn’t from pleasure or even pain. It was because she knew that he wanted her because she’d endured what she had in life. But, she wasn’t ready.

He kissed her hard, twining his fingers through her hair as tears streamed down her face.

She’d never be the woman he so desperately needed if she didn’t learn to confront the things that made her hurt.

She couldn’t go forward until she tied off the bleeding arteries from the past.

The following morning, Jan slipped out of the bed before the sun rose, being very careful not to jostle Stephen. They’d spent most of the day in bed, and he’d done exactly what he’d said. He’d made love to her, kissed away her tears, and made her happily submit to him again and again. Then, they’d had a late dinner at The Sandbar only to come right back, say good night to the Rozhkovs, and start up their sensual entwining once more.

She’d let him have his way because maybe it’d be the last time. Maybe he’d give up on her for good for not letting him fix things for her.

This was for her, and she had to do it on her own. If he couldn’t understand that, then they weren’t meant to last anyway.

She bussed her lips across his strong cheekbone.

He sighed in his sleep and reached for her.

She backed away before his hand found purchase on her shirt.

He stirred, moving around, but didn’t wake. When he was still again, she picked up her suitcase handle, grabbed her purse, and left.

* * * *

Jan found Meg parked on the street a row back. She had the engine running and popped the trunk as Jan approached.

Jan stowed her suitcase in the back and joined Meg in the front seat. As she pulled her seatbelt across her body, she stared at her knees and whispered, “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“I don’t agree with it, but I understand why you’re doing it,” Meg said. She handed Jan a coffee from the cup holder. “Two sugars, three creams. You look like you need it.” She chuckled. “Sounded like you and Stephen had a late night.”

Jan cringed.

Meg laughed, and accelerated down the strip. “Hey, I only heard it because you left the window open. I went outside to get rid of some trash and retreated back upstairs as soon as I could.”

“I don’t mean to lead him on.”

“Well, I don’t believe you are. Look, we all bring bullshit into our relationships. Sometimes, it permeates everything and never really goes away. Fortunately for me, Seth has a high tolerance for bullshit, though he does try to clear it out as soon as possible.”

“Obviously you figured out how to make that work for you. You seem to have a strong marriage.”

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. There aren’t too many people who know this. It’s just my family, my little group of friends, and their husbands. That’s it. Those are the only people that know, and now I’m telling you.”

A gnawing tug of foreboding unsettled Jan’s stomach. She just knew Meg was going to tell her what she didn’t want to hear—that it wasn’t all sunshine and roses in the Rozhkov camp. That their marriage wasn’t a fairy tale. Now, more than ever, Jan wanted the fairy tale life to be possible, and she wanted that with Stephen. Just not yet.

Meg activated the cruise control and propped her left elbow against the windowsill. “Seth and I actually didn’t have anything worked out when we got married. We barely knew each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean he did me a favor. I was coming off a nasty divorce and was having my name dragged through the mud by the media.”

Meg’s former husband was Terrence “Spike” Coffman—a rock singer of apparent renown, but Jan hadn’t heard of him until recently. She’d never been much for indie rock
or
reading tabloids.

“Seth agreed to marry me so the press would leave me alone and move on to some other scandal.”

Jan pressed her hand to her heart. “You didn’t love him?”

“I didn’t
know
him. Like I said. At best, he was a mutual friend. I didn’t hang out with him like my girlfriends did. Of course, I fell in love with him, and Toby loved him. Naturally, I didn’t want to give up something that was working so well. Look, we have our ups and downs, and a year later, it still feels like we have so much to learn about each other, but there’s something to be said for compatibility. If you have that, all the other shit is just noise. You can work through it. It might be uncomfortable, but you can do it.”

“Wow. A marriage of convenience. I didn’t think people in real life did those.”

“Happens all the time, and they’re usually not so glamorous.”

“I must admit there’s a certain appeal to latching onto Stephen and knowing he can’t be rid of me so easily.”

“And yet here you are in my car, running away from him.”

“I’m not running away. I’m—”

“I know, I know.” Meg took the wheel with her left hand and grabbed her coffee with the other. “I admire what you’re doing, I just think you’re doing it wrong. He can be a pain in the ass, but Stephen’s a hell of a man to have at your back when you’re doing something that’s hard for you.”

“I know, but…ever since the accident, I’ve been at odds with myself. A crumbling mess on the inside while wearing a stoic expression and speaking with an acerbic tongue to cover up my hurt at times. I just need to put this all behind me. To know where I stand with the people in my life and get the closure I need so badly. I’m tired of being scared of everything. Not being able to give my full trust to the people who deserve it.”

“That’s the rub, Jan. You’ve got to learn who deserves it, and you can’t blame yourself for not being able to assess that when you were younger. You’re a grown woman now. You need to learn to trust yourself, too. Maybe then, you’ll understand that you’re probably just as strong as you’ve been pretending to be.”

Jan hoped that was true. She couldn’t step out on faith if she didn’t have the strength to move her feet.

* * * *

Stephen swiped angrily with a wire brush to loosen the burned-on food on the grill grate. “Fucking thing.”

The nearby deck bench creaked wearily as Seth lowered his two-hundred-plus pounds onto it. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and raised one red eyebrow. “The sludge never bothered you before. You said it added to the flavor.”

“I lied.” Stephen scraped harder, putting all his hurt into the motion.

Why did Jan have to go like that? And why did his own goddamned sister
take
her?
Fucking traitor.

“I know you’re upset,” Seth said. “But, Meg explained this to you. She makes good sense when she wants to.”

“I’m not going to chase her anymore.”

“You’re right. You
are
a liar.”

Seth was correct. Stephen probably would never stop chasing Jan, but he was just so fucking weary about it now. Did she want him or not? He thought she did—he thought she was going to let him give her everything she needed, but then she packed up her shit while he slept and left. He’d probably never sleep deeply again.

Stephen threw down the brush and wiped his hands on his shorts. “I’m worried that I came on too strong. I read her like a book, figured out what her holes were, and offered everything I could think of to fill them in. To fix her.”

“Seems to me that if she needs fixing, it needs to be from the inside out, yes?”

“Of course, that’s logical when you say it.”

“You’re as logical as I am. Unfortunately, these women”—he made a sweeping arm gesture indicating Meg down on the beach and probably every other woman in their company, whether near or far—“tend to be the antidotes to logic. Don’t expect anything to play out according to plan. If you love her…”

“I do.” That was indisputable. He’d decided from the last time he visited Bermuda that he’d love her, and it was no hardship.

“Okay. You love her, so go with the flow. Throw logic to the wind. Don’t expect anything to happen on a specific timeframe. Just know what your limits are and be ready to push back when you need to.”

Stephen let his brother-in-law’s words settle in as the sound of childish laughter pealed down the beach. He turned and found Toby turning cartwheels in the surf, and Mrs. Emerson sitting with Meg not too far from him.

He was such a happy kid. He was a handful, but maybe one day Meg would tell him he was worth every tear, just like Stephen’s mother had with him. He wanted that to be him, one day soon. He wanted to pull a child of his own into his arms and forgive them for all the small annoyances they’d committed and ever would. He’d make sure they knew they were wanted and cherished in spite of everything. That they would be confident in love…unlike Jan.

But, he could teach her that, too, assuming she ever came back to him.

He sighed, and sat beside Seth. “She won’t even answer her phone.”

“Probably because she knows you’d swoop in and do that knight on a wide horse thing.”

Stephen chuckled, and rubbed his eyes. “
White
horse, man.”

“If you say so. Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“Don’t look up now. I think your courier friend is here.”

Groaning, Stephen did exactly what Seth told him not to. He stood, and saw the man hiking through the sand carrying a thick envelope. “Whatever it is, don’t bring it any closer,” Stephen warned.

The courier stopped, brow furrowed, and shifted the package to his other hand.

“Is that correspondence from McClure, Knox, Eshleman, and Rowe?”

The man looked at the envelope, then nodded.

“I thought so. I’m not signing for it. Here.” He nudged his wallet out of his back pocket and thumbed a couple of five-dollar bills from the fold. Whistling, he jogged down the deck stairs, tucked the cash into the bewildered man’s shirt pocket, and gave the pocket a pat. “There you go. I don’t care what you tell them. Tell them I wasn’t here or that no one else would sign for it. Tell them to go fuck themselves.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you. Be creative.”

The courier scowled. “The guy at the office said it was important.”

“Mm-hmm.” Stephen crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the young man from head to toes. Wide-shouldered, big hands, strong stance. Hard head, probably. If he weren’t so stiff, he’d probably make a damn fine boxer. In fact, Stephen would bet good money on it. “Hey, listen. I’ll give it to you straight. The people who keep trying to send me shit? I’m not working for them anymore. None of the paperwork I owe them for my separation needs execution right now, so what they’re doing is trying to eke the last bit of liquid out of a lemon that’s already been squeezed. You understand me?”

The man nodded, slowly, but he nodded.

“Let’s make a little deal, okay?”

“What kind of deal?”

“You into sports?”

“Yeah. I used to play football. Tackle.”

“So you like hitting things?”

The young man’s cheeks flushed bright red.

Seth barked with laughter from the deck. “Let him off the hook, Stephen.”

“Fine. You interested in boxing?”

“I’m interested in trying. Seems like boxers pick up a lot of ladies. I could use a little of that mojo.”

“I can’t help you with that mojo, but I can help you win a fight. I’ve got three championship belts collecting dust in my apartment. Listen. Meet me at the Y at around six. We can spar. If you manage to land a single punch, I’ll train you for free.”

“Okay, but what’s the catch?”

“No catch. I’m just turning over a new leaf.”

Derrick would be so proud. Stephen hoped the same was true for Jan.

Jan didn’t like Michigan. It didn’t feel like
home
the way the East Coast had started to during the few days she was there. She thought maybe if she had some more time to orient herself to her surroundings, she’d develop the same sort of fondness for the place.

But, she couldn’t. And it wasn’t just due to the fact she was residing temporarily in a motel, but she knew part of that had to be due to the phenomena of cellular memory. Even if she had no recollection of being at a place, her mother’s ancestors had been. She knew where she belonged, and that was on that sliver of coastline between Maryland and South Carolina.

Her mother’s first-cousin-once-removed, Tina, confirmed as much.

She turned the pages of the photo album, pointing out this person and that one to Jan while Jan’s mother hid in her room. Jan saw it for what it was. It’d taken her a week, and the realization had settled into her in pieces. She was hiding just like Jan did when she was afraid or ashamed. Jan kept going over, though—made it a daily vigil.

Mostly she talked with Tina, helped her in her small backyard garden, and assisted her with folding the clothes on her line. Sometimes, she sat for dinner hoping her mother would come out, but she didn’t. According to Tina, she always came out after Jan left for the motel.

Jan was willing to be patient—like Stephen—but it would only be possible for so long. Her savings were going to dry up and she’d have to get a job somewhere.

Anywhere. Just not Bermuda.

Mrs. Emerson had suggested she look into long-term substitute teaching come fall—said she and her husband could write her up a glowing personal reference—and the idea appealed to her greatly. She could get back into the swing of teaching. Gain the experience she lacked. Make some roots in the community.

She wanted that, but how could she go when she was so close to unlocking a part of her history?

“I’ve been looking for this album for three days!” Tina dropped the floral-print leather volume on Jan’s lap. “There’s a couple of pictures of you in here.”

“Of me?” Jan lifted the cover. Tina guided her to the very back. All but four pages were covered with pictures. Tina tapped her index finger on the last occupied sheet. “There’s you, your momma, and your daddy.”

Jan’s breath caught. She squinted at the slightly blurry image, rubbed her thumb on the smudge on the protective plastic covering her mother’s pretty face.