Jordan was hot and sweaty. It was Sunday afternoon and she was in her apartment packing up some more of her stuff. Although Garrett was basically taking her apartment "as is," she still knew he would want to put out some of his things. So she was deciding what to pack up and take to her dad's garage, and what to take with her to North Carolina. She had her apartment door open, as she was still shifting boxes in and out, and her CD player was blaring. She didn't hear the elevator and she didn't hear Woody come in.
Woody was there under duress. Nigel had called him up last night and raked his ass over the coals for the way he had treated Jordan. In fact, he had never heard the Brit so angry, unless it was over Rene' Walcott. "You need to talk to Jordan," he had said. "Sunday afternoon at her apartment. She'll be there. She needs to tell you something."
Woody had argued. "I don't want to see her right now. She lied to me again," he had said, rather forcefully, remembering the envelop and her protests that she had not taken it and didn't know what was inside.
"Well, swallow some of your pig-headed, self-righteous pride, mate. She's moped around for three weeks trying to get in touch with you and you've not returned calls, e-mails, pages, or messages from her. She's not asking for the world, she just wants to talk to you face-to-face."
"She can e-mail me."
"Not on this, mate. She wants to see you. You owe her that much."
So stumbling over the guilt trip that Nigel had sent him on, Woody went to Jordan's after lunch on Sunday. Realizing that she had not heard him come in, he reached over and turned the CD player off.
Jordan jumped, startled. Whirling around from where she was filling a box, she turned to face Woody. She felt like a jolt of electricity ran through her, after not seeing his face or talking with him for so long. "Hi," she managed to get out.
Woody looked around her apartment, taking in the boxes and clothes strewn all over the place. Slowly, he turned his eyes back to her. They shown icy cold at Jordan. "What's up? Nigel said you needed to talk to me."
Jordan rubbed her forearm across her sweaty forehead. "Yeah, I do. Have a seat."
"No, thank you. I prefer to stand and this won't take long."
Jordan bit back a sarcastic reply. She was still angry and still hurt and quite often vacillated between the two. Right now anger was winning out. "Well, since you put it that way, no, it won't. Give me back the key to my apartment."
Woody slowly drew his key ring out of his pocket and took off the key. Jordan held out her hand and he dropped the key into her palm. "Thank you," she said and turned back around to finish her work.
"Are you cleaning or moving?" Woody asked.
"Neither."
Woody was puzzled. "What are you doing then?"
"I've taken a residency program in North Carolina. I'm going back with Stevie next week."
"W-w-w-w-hat made you take that?" asked Woody, startled at the revelation.
"It will be good from me professionally – I will work at the state ME's office, take a few classes at Duke, and do some teaching. It will look good on my resume'."
"Oh."
"And it will get me away from you for awhile."
Woody could feel the anger build inside him. "I told you to leave the envelop alone and I'd get to it as soon as I could. You're the one who broke your promise and then lied about it. I'm tired of that with you, Jordan."
"Look, Farm Boy. If I had the envelope, don't you think I'd be busy tracking down leads instead of packing? Don't you think I'd stay in Boston, where my mother was murdered instead of heading out to Durham and Chapel Hill? Did you ever even stop to think once, just once, that I didn't take the damn envelop?"
"No one else but you knew about it."
Jordan looked at Woody. It was a lost cause. They were over. The relationship was dead. Stevie had been right.
Sighing, Jordan said, "I can't blame you for thinking I did do it. But honest, Wood, I didn't. When I told you I loved you and that I would leave my mother's murder alone unless you were with me to check it out, I meant it. When I got the envelop, I took it straight to you.
We're never going to work," she continued. "You don't trust me. A relationship can't work unless two people trust each other. So I'm leaving..."
"You're running again."
"No, Wood, I'm not running because everyone will know where I'm at and how to get in touch with me. I'll be back probably around Christmas. What I'm doing is giving us some time apart to think things through. Or at least giving myself the time. You may have very well reached your decision about us."
Woody thought a moment about what Jordan had said. Quietly, so quietly that it almost scared Jordan, he asked, "And what do you think you'll decide?"
"That unless we can fully trust each other, we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell," Jordan said, turning back to her packing.
She jumped when she heard her apartment door slam shut.
======================================
Woody left Jordan's apartment in an angry huff, his long strides eating up the hallway to the elevators. When the doors slid open, he entered and leaned his head against the cool walls. "Damn," he thought. "How did this get so out of hand?" His accusations had hurt Jordan more than he had realized. He had been so angry at not finding the envelope in his file cabinet. And besides himself, Jordan was the only one who knew about it. What else was he supposed to think...especially given Jordan's history with her mother's murder.
"I should have stayed in Wisconsin. I should have stayed there and married a nice girl from a normal family," he thought, knowing very well that he would never be satisfied with anyone else but Jordan. No matter where he would look, he would always see a pair of honey-brown eyes smiling at him. He sighed. He had no idea now what would happen. He had no idea where the damn envelope was. Then he remembered something else. He didn't even know when Jordan was leaving, just that she would be back around Christmas. Resolutely, he pulled his cell phone out and hit Jordan's number on speed dial. She didn't answer. Slowly he flipped his phone shut. It seemed that she had already made her decision
Woody was there under duress. Nigel had called him up last night and raked his ass over the coals for the way he had treated Jordan. In fact, he had never heard the Brit so angry, unless it was over Rene' Walcott. "You need to talk to Jordan," he had said. "Sunday afternoon at her apartment. She'll be there. She needs to tell you something."
Woody had argued. "I don't want to see her right now. She lied to me again," he had said, rather forcefully, remembering the envelop and her protests that she had not taken it and didn't know what was inside.
"Well, swallow some of your pig-headed, self-righteous pride, mate. She's moped around for three weeks trying to get in touch with you and you've not returned calls, e-mails, pages, or messages from her. She's not asking for the world, she just wants to talk to you face-to-face."
"She can e-mail me."
"Not on this, mate. She wants to see you. You owe her that much."
So stumbling over the guilt trip that Nigel had sent him on, Woody went to Jordan's after lunch on Sunday. Realizing that she had not heard him come in, he reached over and turned the CD player off.
Jordan jumped, startled. Whirling around from where she was filling a box, she turned to face Woody. She felt like a jolt of electricity ran through her, after not seeing his face or talking with him for so long. "Hi," she managed to get out.
Woody looked around her apartment, taking in the boxes and clothes strewn all over the place. Slowly, he turned his eyes back to her. They shown icy cold at Jordan. "What's up? Nigel said you needed to talk to me."
Jordan rubbed her forearm across her sweaty forehead. "Yeah, I do. Have a seat."
"No, thank you. I prefer to stand and this won't take long."
Jordan bit back a sarcastic reply. She was still angry and still hurt and quite often vacillated between the two. Right now anger was winning out. "Well, since you put it that way, no, it won't. Give me back the key to my apartment."
Woody slowly drew his key ring out of his pocket and took off the key. Jordan held out her hand and he dropped the key into her palm. "Thank you," she said and turned back around to finish her work.
"Are you cleaning or moving?" Woody asked.
"Neither."
Woody was puzzled. "What are you doing then?"
"I've taken a residency program in North Carolina. I'm going back with Stevie next week."
"W-w-w-w-hat made you take that?" asked Woody, startled at the revelation.
"It will be good from me professionally – I will work at the state ME's office, take a few classes at Duke, and do some teaching. It will look good on my resume'."
"Oh."
"And it will get me away from you for awhile."
Woody could feel the anger build inside him. "I told you to leave the envelop alone and I'd get to it as soon as I could. You're the one who broke your promise and then lied about it. I'm tired of that with you, Jordan."
"Look, Farm Boy. If I had the envelope, don't you think I'd be busy tracking down leads instead of packing? Don't you think I'd stay in Boston, where my mother was murdered instead of heading out to Durham and Chapel Hill? Did you ever even stop to think once, just once, that I didn't take the damn envelop?"
"No one else but you knew about it."
Jordan looked at Woody. It was a lost cause. They were over. The relationship was dead. Stevie had been right.
Sighing, Jordan said, "I can't blame you for thinking I did do it. But honest, Wood, I didn't. When I told you I loved you and that I would leave my mother's murder alone unless you were with me to check it out, I meant it. When I got the envelop, I took it straight to you.
We're never going to work," she continued. "You don't trust me. A relationship can't work unless two people trust each other. So I'm leaving..."
"You're running again."
"No, Wood, I'm not running because everyone will know where I'm at and how to get in touch with me. I'll be back probably around Christmas. What I'm doing is giving us some time apart to think things through. Or at least giving myself the time. You may have very well reached your decision about us."
Woody thought a moment about what Jordan had said. Quietly, so quietly that it almost scared Jordan, he asked, "And what do you think you'll decide?"
"That unless we can fully trust each other, we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell," Jordan said, turning back to her packing.
She jumped when she heard her apartment door slam shut.
======================================
Woody left Jordan's apartment in an angry huff, his long strides eating up the hallway to the elevators. When the doors slid open, he entered and leaned his head against the cool walls. "Damn," he thought. "How did this get so out of hand?" His accusations had hurt Jordan more than he had realized. He had been so angry at not finding the envelope in his file cabinet. And besides himself, Jordan was the only one who knew about it. What else was he supposed to think...especially given Jordan's history with her mother's murder.
"I should have stayed in Wisconsin. I should have stayed there and married a nice girl from a normal family," he thought, knowing very well that he would never be satisfied with anyone else but Jordan. No matter where he would look, he would always see a pair of honey-brown eyes smiling at him. He sighed. He had no idea now what would happen. He had no idea where the damn envelope was. Then he remembered something else. He didn't even know when Jordan was leaving, just that she would be back around Christmas. Resolutely, he pulled his cell phone out and hit Jordan's number on speed dial. She didn't answer. Slowly he flipped his phone shut. It seemed that she had already made her decision