Where the Heart Lies (14 page)
“I feel the same way.” Along with a surge of affection for his sister, Clay suffered a pang of guilt for neglecting his family over the years. He knew they were proud of his accomplishments and supported his career choices, but it had all come at a cost.
Browsing the real estate listings, he found his attention drawn to houses with enough room for him, Jordan and Molly—and perhaps a few more sometime in the future.
Glancing at the swirl of fine hairs on the crown of his tiny niece’s head, he felt a bubble of excitement rise in his chest, envisioning a future full of possibilities for him and Jordan. Reluctant as she was to commit herself to him, he’d felt her resistance softening the last time they were together; he need only be patient and eventually her heart would open to him.
“Found anything?” Sheryl asked.
Clay reined his focus back to the computer screen. “A few possibilities. Somewhere near the university would be convenient. I like the idea of being able to walk to work.” The notion of coming home to sleep in the same bed every night still felt foreign to him—but the image of Jordan lying there next to him added immensely to its appeal.
A
ping
from his laptop signaled the arrival of an email. Toggling to his email program, he spotted a new message from Jordan, and felt a smile curve his lips; he hadn’t seen her since their visit to the hospital, and he’d been hoping to take her out tomorrow evening.
Clicking the message to open it, he scanned the text quickly—then, his smile wilting, he returned to the beginning to read it more carefully.
Clay,
I’m writing to you from the ferry. I’m taking Molly to Vancouver for a couple of weeks, leaving the bookstore in Adele’s capable hands; I just need to get away for a little while. I know I should be saying goodbye to you in person, but I didn’t want you to persuade me to change my mind. Things have happened so fast with us, I’ve hardly had time to process it and figure out what I want. And the thing is, convenient as it seems—and tempting as it is—I think too much time has passed for us to pick up where we left off. We’re still too different. I saw the look on your face when you got that call from your agent. I can tell the hunger for adventure isn’t quite gone from your system, and if you want one more chance to live that life, you should take it. As for me, I need to be on my own for a while. Please don’t ask me to marry you. I have made up my mind.
Jordan
Clay stared at the screen, his stomach knotting as the words in front of him began to blur into a jumble of indecipherable lines and curves.
Sheryl eyed him curiously, bending as far forward as she could without disturbing the baby. “What is it?”
Rather than reply, he picked up the laptop and slid it across the cushion so she could read the message. Her brows drew slowly together as she did.
“You proposed?” she asked, her gaze snapping up in surprise.
With a sigh of frustration, Clay nodded, his hands balling into fists against his thighs. “Not exactly, but I told her I intended to. This is my fault—I pushed too hard. I was so sure we could recapture what we had; obviously I was wrong. I suppose I should’ve listened to my big sister after all.”
“Clay, I’m so sorry. But is she right? Do you want to continue the TV series?”
He didn’t answer at first; of course the opportunity had tempted him when it was first offered. The yearning for exploration and discovery that had taken hold of him as a boy still ran through his blood, and he supposed it always would. Yet he hadn’t considered it a sacrifice to leave that life behind in order to settle down with Jordan.
But evidently she didn’t share his feelings.
“If she’d really like to see me leave the country, maybe that’s what I should do,” he muttered, reaching for his cell phone on the coffee table. “I’ll call Tim right now.”
But once the phone lay on his palm, his thumb resting against the screen, Clay couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to continue. He’d only be running away again—and to what? Nothing that could ease the violent throbbing beneath his breastbone, or soothe the awful ache of knowing that, either here or on the other side of the world, he would not have Jordan beside him in his bed.
Seeing him hesitate, Sheryl reached over and took the phone from his hand. “Clay, there’s something Jordan’s not telling you. I think the real reason she’s doing this has nothing to do with that call from Tim.”
He looked at his sister sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“She didn’t want you to know this, but you have to know.” The baby stirred in Sheryl’s lap and she paused to rock her, lowering her voice as she continued. “Jordan had some kind of infection after Molly was born. She and her ex tried to have a child together, but they weren’t able to.”
Clay stared at her, struggling to absorb her words. “How do you know that?”
“Molly told Alice, and Jordan confirmed it.”
He drew a ragged breath, anger and bewilderment surging together into a wave of overpowering emotion. “Why didn’t she tell me? Why send this email handing me my walking papers without at least being honest with me?”
Sheryl’s hand closed over his. “Jordan knows how much it means to you to have children of your own, and she can’t give you any. She’s telling you whatever she thinks will get you to back off. She thinks she’s protecting you—but I think she’s protecting herself, as well. She’s rejecting you before you have a chance to reject her.”
“Why would I—?”
Clay’s jaw hung open as the answer came to him; he hadn’t seen it clearly before, but it seemed so obvious now. His impatience to build a family with Jordan—his desire for a child consuming him—stemmed directly from an event in his past that remained with him despite his efforts to close his mind to it: the loss of the baby he’d conceived with Kathryn.
Clay had never really given himself permission to grieve; Kathryn had reacted to his distress over the miscarriage with impatience, refusing to discuss it whenever he tried to broach the subject. So he’d locked those feeling away—until he kissed Jordan, and at once he saw relief from the hollow ache still lingering in his heart.
Sheryl gave his hand a gentle squeeze, adding softly, “Well, I might have said some things that encouraged her to feel that way.”
He turned to her in surprise. “Why would you do that?”
Her shoulders lifted sheepishly. “I was afraid she was holding you back from what you really want, and you’d end up with your heart broken, just like last time.”
“Jordan
is
what I want.”
Sheryl shook her head, persisting in defending herself. “I saw the look in your eyes, too. You’re itching to get back out there, Clay.”
Struggling to restrain a flare of anger toward his sister, Clay pulled in a few deep breaths before replying. “I realize you meant well, Sheryl, but you have to stop trying to make my decisions for me. I’m capable of running my own life.”
She dropped her gaze, dipping her chin in a brisk nod. “You’re right, of course, I never should’ve interfered. What are you going to do?”
“I … I don’t know.” He’d never imagined that it was infertility weighing on Jordan’s mind, but it made perfect sense now. Each remark he’d made about his desire for a family must have bolstered her fear that once he realized he could never have his own biological child with her, he’d surely back away from their relationship.
“It’s not too late,” Sheryl said, her eyes alight as she swiveled the laptop back toward Clay. “Answer her email and tell her how you feel.”
“I can’t tell her in an email.” Clay vaulted up from the sofa, his heart pummeling so heavily that he briefly swayed on his feet. “I have to see her.”
“You’ll have to go to Vancouver to do that.”
Glancing at his watch, he groaned in frustration. “It’s too late tonight. I’ll have to go first thing in the morning.”
“Tell her your sister’s a big dope,” Sheryl added, offering an off-kilter smile. “And I’m sorry.”
Clay nodded, recognizing the genuine regret in her expression. “At least you told me the truth. Thank you for that.”
Chapter Eleven
Clay was taken aback at first by the pallid, sickly-looking figure who came to the door, her bathrobe cinched tight around her waist, and her hair hanging lank on her shoulders.
“Are you all right?” he asked, seeing her waver slightly in the doorway, regarding him with a bleary gaze.
“I came down with the flu last night.” Jordan looked at him quizzically. “What are you doing here?”
“My sister told me your little secret.”
Her expression didn’t change, but if it was possible for her face to whiten any further, it did.
“My secret?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She must have known what he was talking about, but Clay clarified nonetheless. “She told me you can’t have any more children of your own.”
Jordan’s gaze narrowed as it shifted sideways. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay out of it.”
“
Someone
had to tell me,” he snapped. “Clearly
you
didn’t plan on being honest with me.”
She blinked at him, her brow creased with uncertainty. “Clay, I’m very sick. I can’t talk about this now.”
“We have to talk about this.”
After hesitating another moment, she lifted her hunched shoulders in resignation, stepping back from the door. “Come in, then.”
Clay followed as she shuffled into her parents’ dimly lit living room. The coffee table was littered with crumpled tissues surrounding a half-eaten slice of toast and a glass of water. He couldn’t help recalling the last time he’d shown up at this house unexpectedly to talk to her, over a decade ago. This time he wouldn’t let her dismiss him without an explanation as she did then.
“Where are your parents?” he asked.
“Out of town for the week.” Jordan sank onto the sofa, wrapping her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. “Bad timing. I could use some looking after.”
“And Molly’s at Richard’s place?”
She nodded.
“Is your head clear enough that you can listen to me and think about what I have to say?”
Jordan nodded again, her expression solemn. “Go ahead.”
Clay thought of sitting next to her, but the raw emotions churning though him would not allow him to relax. Instead he stood facing her, resting his hands on his hips.
“Jordan, I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t want to go back to hosting the TV show. I admit that there were moments when the idea excited me, but not nearly enough. Now I need to know, did that email you sent me reflect your true feelings, or were you just trying to push me away for what you figured was my own good?”
She dropped her hands into her lap, settling her gaze on them. “I didn’t want you to end up losing everything you wanted, Clay. You were willing to give up that incredible opportunity so you could stay here and start a family, but with me, that won’t happen. What would you be left with?”
Clay shook his head, breathing deeply to quell the frustration welling inside him. “I’d have
you
.
Jordan,
you didn’t give me a chance to make up my own mind about what I want. For God’s sake, did you really think I’d toss you aside because of this?”
She paused to pick up her glass of water and take a slow sip before she replied. “I didn’t think Richard would.”
Clay shook his head again. “I’m not Richard.”
“But you divorced Kathryn because she didn’t want babies,” Jordan pointed out, her eyes glossy with moisture. “With me … I might want a hundred babies, but I can’t give you even one.”
“That wasn’t the only reason Kathryn and I split up. There were a lot of problems in our relationship. Losing the baby was just the catalyst.” He paused, measuring his next words before he continued. “I realize I’ve gone a little loopy, thinking I could ease the loss of that baby by replacing it. I’ve put it on your shoulders, and I apologize for that.”
Jordan made a movement that was half a nod, half a shrug. Her head hanging low, she raked a hand through her matted hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”
“Please, just tell me, honestly, what it is
you
want.”
She rose abruptly to her feet, her lips parting as she began to reply. “Clay—”
But before she could finish, her eyes rolled up suddenly and her body went limp, crumpling to the carpet.
Time passed in stretches of light and dark, stifling heat and bone-shaking chills. For a while Jordan wasn’t sure what was real and what was part of a dream, as sleep and consciousness flowed into one another.
At some point she became aware that she was in her parents’ bedroom, too weak to move under the covers of their bed, her head throbbing and her throat parched. When she turned her head the room swam around her, so she tried to stay still. She only wanted to sleep, anyway.
She was aware of Clay’s presence in the room some of the time, at intervals bringing a straw to her lips for a sip of blessedly cool water, laying a cold cloth on her forehead, feeding her Aspirin, and taking her temperature. During his visits she managed, with some effort, to whisper questions to him.
“What happened?”
“You must’ve stood up too suddenly and you passed out. You have a high fever, but it’s coming down.”
“Did Molly come back?”
“She’s still with Richard. She’s fine. You sleep now.”
She woke up sometime during the day, with sunlight glowing white against the curtains pulled across the window. It was the creak of the door opening that roused her; Molly was peering around the door to check whether her mother was awake. Seeing that she was, the ten-year-old entered the room, carefully carrying a cup of tea, a bowl of soup and a slice of toast on a tray.
“Hi, kiddo,” Jordan said, her voice raspy. “What time is it?”
“Two-thirty.”
“What day?” She suddenly realized she had no clue.
“Sunday.”
Surprised, Jordan tried to sit up, the room spinning sickeningly as she did so. “I’ve been in bed for two days?”
Molly nodded. “You must be hungry. You haven’t eaten much.”
“Yeah, I’m starving. I guess that’s a good sign. Thanks, this looks great.” Slowly she raised herself into a sitting position, resting against her pillow as her daughter set the tray over her legs. The smell of the food made her empty stomach gnaw in anticipation.
Molly settled next to her on the bed. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yeah, quite a bit.” Jordan’s headache seemed to have subsided, and she felt a comfortable temperature. Now fully awake, she felt more clear-headed than she had in days. She picked up the tea and had a long gulp to moisten her dry throat, then took a large bite of the buttered toast, which tasted heavenly. “So how was your visit with Richard?”
Molly’s shoulders jerked up. “Fine. But I’d rather stay here and look after you.”
“You’re a sweet kid. But I think I’ll be all right now.” Jordan couldn’t help cramming more toast into her mouth as she spoke.
“Good.” Molly paused, regarding her mother closely. “Mom, do you remember that day that you gave me a nickel and I threw it in the fountain across from the bookstore? It was the day that Clay came in.”
“Yes, I remember.” She took a spoonful of the chicken noodle soup, relishing the savoury broth and noodles as though she’d never eaten so well in her life.
“Do you know what I wished for?”
Jordan shook her head.
“I wished for a family,” Molly said. “A family like Alice has.”
Taken aback, Jordan swallowed the toast in her mouth in one lump so she could reply. “You
have
a family,” she reminded her daughter, grasping her hand. “You have grandparents that are crazy about you. And Richard is still your dad.”
“I know. I was really mad at him then. Not so much now. But what I mean is, I wish I had a family that was all together in one place. But I know that’s not possible.”
Jordan set down her spoon, her daughter’s words twisting her heart. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give that to you. It’s all I wanted for you, but I feel like I’ve failed time and again.”
The ten-year-old eyed her quizzically. “It’s not your fault my dad died, or that Richard wasn’t as great a husband as you thought he’d be.”
Jordan stared back, surprised by her young daughter’s mature understanding of the situation. “Thanks, I really needed to hear that.”
“So are you going to marry Clay?” Molly asked casually.
Jordan had just picked up her spoon again, but the question caused her to drop it back into the bowl, splattering her chin with broth. Surely Clay hadn’t told Molly about his promise to propose—but she was a smart little girl, and one with hopes and ideas of her own.
“I don’t know about that,” she replied slowly. “It’s kind of a complicated situation.”
Molly shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like it to me. He’s been looking after you. It’s been nice having him around. He made me apple pancakes for breakfast. And we watched a rerun of his show last night. It was awesome. I think I might go into archeology, too.”
“He’s been sleeping here?” Jordan didn’t know why she was surprised; Clay had been in and out of her room at regular intervals, tending to her every need.
“Yeah, in the spare room. It’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course. It’s very generous of him to do this for us. But we probably won’t need him after today. I’m feeling a lot better.”
Jordan knew full well she still needed him desperately. Though she couldn’t recall a lot about the last few days, she remembered his anger and hurt at having learned the truth of her infertility from his sister instead of Jordan. And she remembered what he’d said about the baby Kathryn had miscarried—that his burning desire for a child may have had something to do with replacing the one he’d lost. Jordan understood that, and it only deepened the sorrow in her heart.
He’d asked her how she felt about him, and she hadn’t been able to deny him the truth any longer; she’d been about to confess her fierce love for him just as she passed out.
Maybe it was for the best; he’d come to Vancouver impulsively to confront her, but while she was ill he’d had time to think over the reality of what a future with Jordan would mean. Just because he’d stuck around to care for her didn’t mean he’d be around for the long haul. By now he could’ve easily thought better of tying himself to a woman who couldn’t give him everything he needed.
After polishing off her soup in another few spoonfuls, Jordan wiped her lips with the napkin thoughtfully set on the tray.
“That was delicious, Molly. Thank you. The next thing I’m going to do is take a bath and brush my teeth.”
“I’ll take your dishes away.” As Molly carefully lifted the tray off her mother’s legs, Jordan marveled at how she’d managed to raise such a great kid, despite everything they’d gone through.
After Molly left, Jordan threw her covers off, and discovered she was wearing a different nightgown than the one she’d had on when Clay came by on Friday. Realizing that he must have changed her at some point during her illness, Jordan suffered a moment of embarrassment—before reassuring herself that it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Her body wasn’t quite as taut as it had been a decade ago, especially since Molly’s birth, but she still kept herself in good shape. Not that it mattered, when she was so pale, grimy and sweaty, and probably foul smelling to boot.
Just as she was contemplating whether she was strong enough to make it to the bathroom, she heard a knock at the door.
“Come in, sweetie,” she said, expecting it was Molly again.
Instead Clay entered the room. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, his hair rumpled on one side as though he’d been napping. Probably worn out from looking after her day and night, she surmised.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Much better. Thanks for taking care of us, Clay. I think we’ll be fine now. You don’t have to stay.”
Ignoring her dismissal, Clay drew the curtain open to let in some light and then sat on the edge of the bed, appraising her. “Have you had enough to eat?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, growing uneasy under his intense gaze. “I must look frightful.”
“You are always beautiful, Jordan.”
Warmth flooded her face, not due to illness this time. “I can only imagine what my breath must be like. And my hair.” She smoothed a hand over her head, feeling the lank, greasy strands.
“Stop worrying about that,” Clay said. “I’ve seen you with your head over the toilet. Right now you look positively radiant by comparison.”
“I threw up? I don’t remember that at all.” She cringed, mortified by the thought of it.
“I’m not surprised. You were in rough shape.”
Jordan nibbled on her bottom lip, still embarrassed. “I’m sorry to put you to all this trouble. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you here mopping my brow and keeping me hydrated.”
He smiled. “I was happy to do it. Do you need anything?”
“I was hoping to take a bath.”
He nodded. “I’ll get it ready for you.”
As though duty-bound, he moved swiftly to the ensuite bathroom, where she soon heard water running in the tub. A few minutes later the sound ceased and Clay returned to Jordan’s side. He helped her out of bed and held her around the waist as they moved together to the bathroom, which was more assistance than Jordan thought she needed, although she was hardly in a position to complain.
“I’m sure I can manage from here,” she said, as he set her down on the edge of the tub.
“You’re sure?”
Though she wasn’t entirely sure, she knew she didn’t want his help getting into the tub, an activity she intended to do naked and without him observing her clammy, unwashed body, even if he’d already seen it.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
Clay nodded. “I’m going to the store to pick up a few things. You’re out of milk and bread. I’ll be back soon.”
“Thank you.”
Before leaving her he hooked her robe on the back of the door, and then found a fresh towel in the linen closet and placed it on the edge of the counter. She didn’t remember him being quite this thoughtful back in university, but then he’d never looked after her when she was sick. She could definitely get used to this sort of pampering.
Standing up, Jordan first brushed her teeth over the sink; then she slipped off her nightgown and stepped into the tub. Slowly she sank into the hot water, sighing deeply as it lapped over her sore muscles. Once she had washed herself from head to foot, she felt truly rejuvenated, although still weak, with hunger pangs beginning again.
She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed when the water began to cool and she reluctantly pulled the plug. Stepping carefully out of the tub, she dried off and wrapped herself in her robe, then assessed her reflection in the mirror. She still looked sallow and hollow-eyed, but somewhat refreshed, which made her feel immeasurably better. After brushing out her wet hair, she made her way back into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, closing her eyes.
She was dozing when a knock at the door roused her.
“Come in,” she said.
“Everything okay?” In the doorway, Clay was holding a tall glass of orange juice, which he set on her bedside table. “You’re looking much better.”
“I feel pretty good overall.”
A broad smile lit his handsome face. “Great.”
“Clay, you’ve been so wonderful,” Jordan said, her voice unexpectedly wavering with emotion. “Is there anything I can do to thank you?”
Clay didn’t reply at first. To her surprise, he sat on the bed and then stretched out next to her, bending to kiss her lightly on the tip of her nose. Laying his head beside hers on the pillow, he held her in his penetrating gaze for what seemed like ages before he spoke.
“Marry me,” he said finally.
Jordan laughed, disbelieving. “Come on, Clay.”
“I’m serious.”
Another burst of laughter came out of her, but this time it was a release of intense emotion, a blending of relief and exhilaration. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“What I want is for you to be my wife, as you should’ve been eleven years ago.”
As he spoke Jordan felt him press something small into her palm. She opened her hand and sucked in her breath; a slender gold band sat there, set with a dazzling ruby. “You kept it all these years?” she whispered in disbelief.
“My mother did. When you gave it back to me I didn’t have the heart to sell it, so I left it with Mom, just in case. She never got rid of it.”
“It’s still every bit as stunning.” With some effort, Jordan raised herself onto her elbow. She turned the ring from side to side, letting sunlight dance over the crimson stone.
“So are you,” Clay said, his warm gaze capturing hers.
Her heart felt ready to soar, but a twinge of unease persisted. “Clay, there’s one other thing you need to understand. If you’re thinking you might persuade me to try fertility treatments again, I’m so sorry but I won’t do it. I just can’t go through that again.”
One of his broad shoulders lifted. “That’s not what I was thinking. I was actually thinking about adoption.”
“But you’ve told me how much it means to you to have your own flesh-and-blood child,” Jordan countered.
Wrapping his arms around her waist, Clay drew her to him so their bodies were molded together, their faces close. “It would be ideal, yes. But I want to have a family with you, and if that means adoption, so be it. The idea is actually kind of exciting.”