Woody returned to his office early on Monday morning. He knew there was probably a pile of work covering the top of his desk, and for once that did not bother him. With the mood he was in, sitting in his lonely office suited him fine. Determined to forget a little of what happened and at least function, he dug into the mountain of forms, files, and such. About midmorning, he came across a file with a yellow sticky note attached to the front.
"Woody, Found this with the file you gave me on the Morse case. Must have accidentally grabbed it when you told me to go get the file from your desk. Didn't seem like it had anything to do with the Morses. Figured I'd better return it before it caused problems. Hope you had a good trip. Eddie Winslow"
Woody opened the file. Inside was the envelope.
Damn.
=======================================================
It was late. Woody sat on a barstool at the Pogue. Since he had found the envelope, he had tried to reach Jordan by phone, fax, and e-mail. She had not responded. He even called Stevie. All she told him was that Jordan had the next few days off and that she had no idea where Jordan was. But if Stevie heard from her, she'd have Jordan give him a call.
In an effort to feel even remotely close to Jordan, Woody had decided to go to the Pogue and drown his sorrows. Or at least try. Now, not only was Jordan in North Carolina, Woody had no idea where in North Carolina she was. And why the hell wasn't she responding to his phone calls. Sighing deeply, he took another drink of Scotch. The envelope was in front of him. He hadn't let it out of his sight since he had found it that morning. Indeed, that damn envelope would probably be his bedroom companion until he could get in touch with her.
"Hey big boy, you about through? We're ready to close," Marge called out from the back.
"Yeah, let me finish this Scotch and I'll leave. I'll go out by the front way and lock that door, Marge," Woody replied. Marge dimmed the lights.
"I'm leaving then," Marge called out. Woody heard the back door slam. Resolutely, he reached for the bottle of Scotch to pour himself another single, when he heard coins drop into the jukebox and the soft refrains of "Melt" by Rascal Flatts drift across the room. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the reflection in the mirror over the bar. All he could see was a pair of honey-brown eyes staring back at him.
"Hey Farm Boy. Wanna dance?"
"Jordan," Woody breathed, not sure whether or not this was a figment of his imagination or reality. "You're not supposed to be back until Spring."
Slowly, Jordan walked over to Woody. "You know I hate to see a man drink alone," she said, reaching for the bottle. Woody stopped her. "You're real, aren't you?" he asked.
"As real as you can get."
"Why are you here?"
Jordan grinned. "I live in Boston, remember?"
"No, Jordan, why are you here?"
Looking him straight in the eye, she said "Because I love you. And not only can't I imagine my life without you, I don't want to, either. And I'm tired of the two of us being so stubborn we can't be together."
Woody slowly stood up and took her by the shoulders. "You sure, Jo?"
Jordan smiled up at him, "Oh yes. Someone told me today that unless I got my ass back to Boston, the best part of my life could be passing me by. After much thought and consideration, I concurred that she was right."
"Stevie."
"She's a very wise woman."
Woody hugged Jordan to him. "I've missed you, Jo...so much."
"I've missed you, too. Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
"That if something like this envelope thing happens again, you won't go off the deep end. And I promise you that I won't do anything.....anything to hurt you or cause you to mistrust me."
"Is all forgiven then?"
Jordan snuggled closer. "Yes. Of course, if you'd kiss me, it would make me feel better."
"In a minute. You need to promise me something else, too."
Jordan looked curiously at Woody. "What?"
"Promise you won't let me loan Eddie Winslow anymore files," Woody said holding up the envelope. "He picked this up when he asked for the Morse file. He just now returned it."
"Damn," Jordan said, wrapping her arms around Woody's neck and pulling him down for her kiss. "Takes him long enough to return stuff, doesn't it?"
"Woody, Found this with the file you gave me on the Morse case. Must have accidentally grabbed it when you told me to go get the file from your desk. Didn't seem like it had anything to do with the Morses. Figured I'd better return it before it caused problems. Hope you had a good trip. Eddie Winslow"
Woody opened the file. Inside was the envelope.
Damn.
=======================================================
It was late. Woody sat on a barstool at the Pogue. Since he had found the envelope, he had tried to reach Jordan by phone, fax, and e-mail. She had not responded. He even called Stevie. All she told him was that Jordan had the next few days off and that she had no idea where Jordan was. But if Stevie heard from her, she'd have Jordan give him a call.
In an effort to feel even remotely close to Jordan, Woody had decided to go to the Pogue and drown his sorrows. Or at least try. Now, not only was Jordan in North Carolina, Woody had no idea where in North Carolina she was. And why the hell wasn't she responding to his phone calls. Sighing deeply, he took another drink of Scotch. The envelope was in front of him. He hadn't let it out of his sight since he had found it that morning. Indeed, that damn envelope would probably be his bedroom companion until he could get in touch with her.
"Hey big boy, you about through? We're ready to close," Marge called out from the back.
"Yeah, let me finish this Scotch and I'll leave. I'll go out by the front way and lock that door, Marge," Woody replied. Marge dimmed the lights.
"I'm leaving then," Marge called out. Woody heard the back door slam. Resolutely, he reached for the bottle of Scotch to pour himself another single, when he heard coins drop into the jukebox and the soft refrains of "Melt" by Rascal Flatts drift across the room. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the reflection in the mirror over the bar. All he could see was a pair of honey-brown eyes staring back at him.
"Hey Farm Boy. Wanna dance?"
"Jordan," Woody breathed, not sure whether or not this was a figment of his imagination or reality. "You're not supposed to be back until Spring."
Slowly, Jordan walked over to Woody. "You know I hate to see a man drink alone," she said, reaching for the bottle. Woody stopped her. "You're real, aren't you?" he asked.
"As real as you can get."
"Why are you here?"
Jordan grinned. "I live in Boston, remember?"
"No, Jordan, why are you here?"
Looking him straight in the eye, she said "Because I love you. And not only can't I imagine my life without you, I don't want to, either. And I'm tired of the two of us being so stubborn we can't be together."
Woody slowly stood up and took her by the shoulders. "You sure, Jo?"
Jordan smiled up at him, "Oh yes. Someone told me today that unless I got my ass back to Boston, the best part of my life could be passing me by. After much thought and consideration, I concurred that she was right."
"Stevie."
"She's a very wise woman."
Woody hugged Jordan to him. "I've missed you, Jo...so much."
"I've missed you, too. Just promise me one thing."
"What?"
"That if something like this envelope thing happens again, you won't go off the deep end. And I promise you that I won't do anything.....anything to hurt you or cause you to mistrust me."
"Is all forgiven then?"
Jordan snuggled closer. "Yes. Of course, if you'd kiss me, it would make me feel better."
"In a minute. You need to promise me something else, too."
Jordan looked curiously at Woody. "What?"
"Promise you won't let me loan Eddie Winslow anymore files," Woody said holding up the envelope. "He picked this up when he asked for the Morse file. He just now returned it."
"Damn," Jordan said, wrapping her arms around Woody's neck and pulling him down for her kiss. "Takes him long enough to return stuff, doesn't it?"