Chapter 4
The bell on the door of the bar jangled.
"Hey, Jordan," Max called out to his daughter.
Jordan walked up to the bar to get the cup of coffee her dad was offering. Max's return to Boston was the one really bright spot in her life during the past three years. He had gone off to chase his own demons and returned home a stronger and more loving man. He had put the past behind him and urged his daughter to do the same. "Move on," he advised her. "Your mother would want you to."
But like the others, Max had been alarmed at Jordan's appearance and demeanor. She grew thinner, almost gaunt, as time went on. The doctors had said she was fine, just working too hard and not eating three meals a day. Max knew she worked as many hours as Garrett would give her and sometimes beg for more. Then she came to work at The Pogue. He had told her repeatedly to go home, he and the crew could handle it, get some rest. "If I go home, Dad, I'll just think about it...and him," she would sadly reply, alluding to Woody.
"How's it going, Jor?" Max asked, softly touching his daughter's face.
"Fine, I guess. I pull a double tomorrow and it's the weekend, it could get interesting."
"Okay, do me a favor? You get your tail out of here no later than 11 tonight, go home and get some rest. You'll need it."
"You sound like Nigel. Why is everyone so worried about me?"
"Nigel is a very wise man," Max replied. "And have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"
No, she hadn't. She just functioned, and today it seemed she barely did that.
"Hand me my apron and let me get to work," was all she would answer Max, beginning to wipe down the tables and barstools. Between patrons and tourists, she stayed busy until 11 o'clock when Max, very unceremoniously, escorted his daughter through the back door and into her SUV.
"Drive safely and sleep tight," he said as he waved her off.
"The drive safe I can handle," Jordan said to herself as she maneuvered the big car home. "I haven't 'slept tight' in God knows when." She rubbed her hand down her tired face.
Letting herself into her apartment, Jordan paused in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. She looked at herself critically. Reluctantly, she had to agree with Nigel and her dad. She looked like hell. As soon as she could see her schedule clearly, she would think about taking a few days off. Maybe drive to the coast. Sleep a week. With a sigh, she put on her pajamas, set her alarm, and crawled into the bed, hoping a dreamless sleep would quickly come to her.
Unfortunately it didn't. It was three years ago tonight that Woody had walked out of her life. She rolled over on her stomach.
Three years. Other than one all-too-brief phone call the day after he left to let her know he was okay, there had been nothing from him. For the first six weeks, she had cursed him daily. Since then, she had simply longed to hear from him. An e-mail, a postcard, a call....anything. It hurt her to the quick to know he was through with her. The night he came back with her to the apartment, she was ready to tell him she loved him and wanted the type of relationship she knew he desired. But as soon as their lips met, all thoughts of talk left her mind. And then he walked out on her, making it clear he no longer loved or wanted her.
"Was I that bad?" she whispered, her voice breaking. The tears she had been keeping at bay all day welled up in her eyes and began to slide down her cheeks. She buried her face in the pillows. She had tried so hard after he left, and she really didn't know why. He wasn't there to approve of anything, but that hadn't stopped her. From the time he walked out of her life, she decided she would be as perfect as she could, just in case he walked back in. Maybe the next time he would be happy with her, if there was a next time.
So perfection, or at least the pursuit of it, became her goal. Her apartment was meticulously clean and perfectly decorated, her clothes meticulously pressed and coordinated, her work meticulously detailed and thorough. In short, everything was as flawless as she could make it. Everything but her heart.
At the insistence of her friends, she had dated, tried to move on with her life, but couldn't. She couldn't give what was remaining of her broken heart to anyone. She was too afraid to trust another man with it. Every time she kissed someone, all she could remember was another pair of lips caressing her body and carrying her to heights she had never known existed. And another pair of strong arms that caught her and held her on her way back down to earth.
Sighing, she rolled over to her side and looked out the window. For the millionth time that day, she wondered where Woody was and what he was doing. And if, somewhere, in his heart of hearts, he missed her or even thought of her at all.
The bell on the door of the bar jangled.
"Hey, Jordan," Max called out to his daughter.
Jordan walked up to the bar to get the cup of coffee her dad was offering. Max's return to Boston was the one really bright spot in her life during the past three years. He had gone off to chase his own demons and returned home a stronger and more loving man. He had put the past behind him and urged his daughter to do the same. "Move on," he advised her. "Your mother would want you to."
But like the others, Max had been alarmed at Jordan's appearance and demeanor. She grew thinner, almost gaunt, as time went on. The doctors had said she was fine, just working too hard and not eating three meals a day. Max knew she worked as many hours as Garrett would give her and sometimes beg for more. Then she came to work at The Pogue. He had told her repeatedly to go home, he and the crew could handle it, get some rest. "If I go home, Dad, I'll just think about it...and him," she would sadly reply, alluding to Woody.
"How's it going, Jor?" Max asked, softly touching his daughter's face.
"Fine, I guess. I pull a double tomorrow and it's the weekend, it could get interesting."
"Okay, do me a favor? You get your tail out of here no later than 11 tonight, go home and get some rest. You'll need it."
"You sound like Nigel. Why is everyone so worried about me?"
"Nigel is a very wise man," Max replied. "And have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"
No, she hadn't. She just functioned, and today it seemed she barely did that.
"Hand me my apron and let me get to work," was all she would answer Max, beginning to wipe down the tables and barstools. Between patrons and tourists, she stayed busy until 11 o'clock when Max, very unceremoniously, escorted his daughter through the back door and into her SUV.
"Drive safely and sleep tight," he said as he waved her off.
"The drive safe I can handle," Jordan said to herself as she maneuvered the big car home. "I haven't 'slept tight' in God knows when." She rubbed her hand down her tired face.
Letting herself into her apartment, Jordan paused in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom. She looked at herself critically. Reluctantly, she had to agree with Nigel and her dad. She looked like hell. As soon as she could see her schedule clearly, she would think about taking a few days off. Maybe drive to the coast. Sleep a week. With a sigh, she put on her pajamas, set her alarm, and crawled into the bed, hoping a dreamless sleep would quickly come to her.
Unfortunately it didn't. It was three years ago tonight that Woody had walked out of her life. She rolled over on her stomach.
Three years. Other than one all-too-brief phone call the day after he left to let her know he was okay, there had been nothing from him. For the first six weeks, she had cursed him daily. Since then, she had simply longed to hear from him. An e-mail, a postcard, a call....anything. It hurt her to the quick to know he was through with her. The night he came back with her to the apartment, she was ready to tell him she loved him and wanted the type of relationship she knew he desired. But as soon as their lips met, all thoughts of talk left her mind. And then he walked out on her, making it clear he no longer loved or wanted her.
"Was I that bad?" she whispered, her voice breaking. The tears she had been keeping at bay all day welled up in her eyes and began to slide down her cheeks. She buried her face in the pillows. She had tried so hard after he left, and she really didn't know why. He wasn't there to approve of anything, but that hadn't stopped her. From the time he walked out of her life, she decided she would be as perfect as she could, just in case he walked back in. Maybe the next time he would be happy with her, if there was a next time.
So perfection, or at least the pursuit of it, became her goal. Her apartment was meticulously clean and perfectly decorated, her clothes meticulously pressed and coordinated, her work meticulously detailed and thorough. In short, everything was as flawless as she could make it. Everything but her heart.
At the insistence of her friends, she had dated, tried to move on with her life, but couldn't. She couldn't give what was remaining of her broken heart to anyone. She was too afraid to trust another man with it. Every time she kissed someone, all she could remember was another pair of lips caressing her body and carrying her to heights she had never known existed. And another pair of strong arms that caught her and held her on her way back down to earth.
Sighing, she rolled over to her side and looked out the window. For the millionth time that day, she wondered where Woody was and what he was doing. And if, somewhere, in his heart of hearts, he missed her or even thought of her at all.