Jordan had fought the urge to follow Woody out to the elevators, despite
the sheet and her bare feet. Instead, she slowly walked back to her bed
and buried her face in the pillow and sheets where he had been, trying hard
to imprint his smell in her brain.
He was gone. Really, truly gone. Her heart felt like lead. She had pushed him away too many times and he had finally had enough. He left. She tried to tell herself that he would be back, that he would be gone a few days and then come to his senses and return to her, but then she would remember his eyes. They had been cold. Ruthless, even. The light in them that would twinkle so warmly at her in the past was gone.
Fighting the urge to break down and cry, Jordan walked into the bathroom, thinking a shower would help her clear her head and make sense of the whole situation. Instead she ended up throwing up for the next twenty minutes. Climbing under a cold shower spray, she finally broke down and cried herself out. She now was alone...completely alone. No Mom, no Dad, no Woody. Just herself.
A gentle hand shook Woody awake. "I'm sorry to waken you," the air hostess said, "but we're getting ready to land and you need to put on your seatbelt."
Bleary-eyed, Woody peered out the window. He could make out green, rolling landscape and burning blue sky. He buckled his seatbelt and waited. Before long he was making his way off the plane into the terminal. His eyes were having trouble adjusting to the bright sunlight. He nearly ran into the sign on the concourse that said "Welcome to North Carolina."
He collected the few bags he had with him and begin looking for a familiar face. Finally, he caught sight of a huge cowboy hat on top of an equally huge man. "Over here, Woody," he called.
"Jake, how are you doing you old son-of-a-gun," Woody said, putting down one of his bags and shaking hands with the man. Jake tipped his hat back and looked at Woody from top to bottom.
"Not bad, Woodrow, but you look a little worse for the wear. Whatsa matter, Boston not agree with you?"
"You might say that," Woody replied, carefully avoiding Jake's eyes. Jake was far too perceptive, and Woody needed some time before he told Jake everything. He knew the time would come. Jake would bulldog it out of him, word by word, syllable by syllable, but Woody wasn't ready yet. He didn't know when he would be – weeks, years, who knew?
Jake eyed Woody one more time. "Get your gear and let's get into the truck. Linda's been cooking since noon and she can't wait to set her eyes on you again. It's been too long WoodROW," Jake said, emphasizing the row part of Woodrow. "Let's get you home and get you settled."
Woody filled in Jake about leaving Boston on the way back to the farm, carefully avoiding any mention of Jordan. He blamed his abrupt departure on burn out.
"So you hanging up your badge?" Jake asked.
"For now," Woody said, inwardly sighing. Putting his law enforcement career behind him was one of the hardest things he had ever done. But he knew he had to do it for two reasons. First, he had to get away from Jordan and anything that reminded him of her. Second, as long as he was in "the system," Jordan could have Nigel perform his computer voodoo and find him, if she wanted to. And Woody didn't know how long he could resist her, if she decided she wanted him back. So as much as he hated to do it, he turned in his badge for good, for at least the next several years.
"I dunno," Jake said, sounding doubtful. "My daddy always said, 'Once a lawman, always a lawman, badge or not'. But what the hey, we can let you play farmer until she's out of your system."
Woody's jaw dropped. "Who said anything about 'she'?"
Jake laughed. "You don't have to say a word. It's always a woman behind decisions like this. She must be one hell of a girl to make you run scared. When you're ready to talk, let me know. I'll listen, no questions asked."
"Thanks," Woody mumbled, turning his attention to the landscape whizzing by his window.
Jake turned the old truck down a gravel road. Fences ran down both sides and on one side Woody could see corn fields and on the other a half a dozen horses grazed. Jake made a left into a winding driveway that ended in front of a two-story white farmhouse with a front porch that stretched the entire length. A young woman was at the door, waving to him.
"Welcome home, Woody," Jake said. "At least, until you clear your head and figure yourself out, this is your home."
He was gone. Really, truly gone. Her heart felt like lead. She had pushed him away too many times and he had finally had enough. He left. She tried to tell herself that he would be back, that he would be gone a few days and then come to his senses and return to her, but then she would remember his eyes. They had been cold. Ruthless, even. The light in them that would twinkle so warmly at her in the past was gone.
Fighting the urge to break down and cry, Jordan walked into the bathroom, thinking a shower would help her clear her head and make sense of the whole situation. Instead she ended up throwing up for the next twenty minutes. Climbing under a cold shower spray, she finally broke down and cried herself out. She now was alone...completely alone. No Mom, no Dad, no Woody. Just herself.
A gentle hand shook Woody awake. "I'm sorry to waken you," the air hostess said, "but we're getting ready to land and you need to put on your seatbelt."
Bleary-eyed, Woody peered out the window. He could make out green, rolling landscape and burning blue sky. He buckled his seatbelt and waited. Before long he was making his way off the plane into the terminal. His eyes were having trouble adjusting to the bright sunlight. He nearly ran into the sign on the concourse that said "Welcome to North Carolina."
He collected the few bags he had with him and begin looking for a familiar face. Finally, he caught sight of a huge cowboy hat on top of an equally huge man. "Over here, Woody," he called.
"Jake, how are you doing you old son-of-a-gun," Woody said, putting down one of his bags and shaking hands with the man. Jake tipped his hat back and looked at Woody from top to bottom.
"Not bad, Woodrow, but you look a little worse for the wear. Whatsa matter, Boston not agree with you?"
"You might say that," Woody replied, carefully avoiding Jake's eyes. Jake was far too perceptive, and Woody needed some time before he told Jake everything. He knew the time would come. Jake would bulldog it out of him, word by word, syllable by syllable, but Woody wasn't ready yet. He didn't know when he would be – weeks, years, who knew?
Jake eyed Woody one more time. "Get your gear and let's get into the truck. Linda's been cooking since noon and she can't wait to set her eyes on you again. It's been too long WoodROW," Jake said, emphasizing the row part of Woodrow. "Let's get you home and get you settled."
Woody filled in Jake about leaving Boston on the way back to the farm, carefully avoiding any mention of Jordan. He blamed his abrupt departure on burn out.
"So you hanging up your badge?" Jake asked.
"For now," Woody said, inwardly sighing. Putting his law enforcement career behind him was one of the hardest things he had ever done. But he knew he had to do it for two reasons. First, he had to get away from Jordan and anything that reminded him of her. Second, as long as he was in "the system," Jordan could have Nigel perform his computer voodoo and find him, if she wanted to. And Woody didn't know how long he could resist her, if she decided she wanted him back. So as much as he hated to do it, he turned in his badge for good, for at least the next several years.
"I dunno," Jake said, sounding doubtful. "My daddy always said, 'Once a lawman, always a lawman, badge or not'. But what the hey, we can let you play farmer until she's out of your system."
Woody's jaw dropped. "Who said anything about 'she'?"
Jake laughed. "You don't have to say a word. It's always a woman behind decisions like this. She must be one hell of a girl to make you run scared. When you're ready to talk, let me know. I'll listen, no questions asked."
"Thanks," Woody mumbled, turning his attention to the landscape whizzing by his window.
Jake turned the old truck down a gravel road. Fences ran down both sides and on one side Woody could see corn fields and on the other a half a dozen horses grazed. Jake made a left into a winding driveway that ended in front of a two-story white farmhouse with a front porch that stretched the entire length. A young woman was at the door, waving to him.
"Welcome home, Woody," Jake said. "At least, until you clear your head and figure yourself out, this is your home."