I stood outside the bar. It was two in the morning; I hoped that Jordan would hurry. I was freezing. I pulled my jacket around me a little bit tighter. The snow had begun to fall more fiercely. The wind had begun to pick up to make temperatures well below zero. I stood shaking outside the bar for the last fifteen minutes. I was waiting for her to see me when she came to lock the front door. I hoped that it would be soon; I could already feel the tips of my fingers going numb.
"Why are you still here?" Jordan asked as she opened the door.
"I promised Eddie," I replied. I know it sounded lame. I wanted to tell her that I was here to make amends; to forge some sort of peace so I could be some part of Calleigh's life. I had the better part of five and a half hours to think about the prospect of having a daughter; I had time to think about all the time that I had already missed. I had five hours to think about how much I hated myself.
"I told you to leave," Jordan replied as she walked out by me. She instantly began to shiver in the cold air.
"Go inside and finishing closing up, Jordan," I said, "I'll wait out here."
"Why did you go?" she asked. Her words were spoken so softly . . . barely audible.
"I didn't want to hurt you anymore . . . after Devan . . . I knew I used her to try to replace you," I replied. I hadn't said Devan's name in years; I hadn't wanted to. I had done wrong by her.
"I don't understand. Was it that bad? Was I that bad?" Jordan asked. She was visibly shaking. She rubbed her hands violently against her upper arms in a desperate attempt to warm herself. I knew what she was asking about; she wanted to know if something about her was so repulsive that it made me run. I wanted to tell her that I was so disgusted with myself that I needed to run.
"Can we go inside?" I asked. She opened the door for me; the Pogue was empty.
"I let the college students leave early on Fridays . . . I don't want to ruin their entire weekend," Jordan explained as if I had asked her a question.
"Can you tell me about her?" I asked. I had a million questions to ask her, but I didn't know if it was my place to force the issue after Jordan had shot it down earlier.
"What do you want to know?" Jordan asked as I followed her behind the bar to help clean up.
"Everything . . . I want to know everything," I replied.
"She turns four in three days. The world is her stage . . . she's dramatic; she dances ballet. Yesterday, she said that she either wants to be a ballerina or a doctor like Nigel. Calleigh is infatuated with everything that Nigel and Bug do in the lab. She sits up on a stool next to them asking a million questions about each and every machine. She asks Bug to tell her about Lepidotera . . . butterflies . . . she loves butterflies. She could spend hours drawing the minutest details on the wings. Please don't try to take my daughter away from me," Jordan said as she finally broke down into tears. I couldn't imagine taking Calleigh away from her . . . I wished I knew why Jordan thought I would do that.
"I wouldn't take her away from you," I whispered. I just wanted to play some role in her life. I wondered if it was far too late for that to even happen.
"You can't. I'd die without her," Jordan replied as she unsuccessfully tried to fight the sobs that racked her body. I pulled her into my arms; I could feel her body tense against me. I was horrified that Jordan thought of me as a monster. I was a monster that could threaten the balance her and Nigel had created for Calleigh.
"I wouldn't take her . . . I would never take her from you," I said trying desperately to reassure her. It had just then dawned on me that Calleigh was the only family Jordan had left. It was her, Calleigh, and the family that had built themselves around the morgue. Maybe I hadn't done Jordan the favor I thought I did when I left Boston. I left her alone, pregnant, and with a secret that she would try to forever hide from her daughter. Jordan was becoming all the things she despised about Max.
"We made such a beautiful little girl," I whispered.
"She's everything to me . . . how am I supposed to explain this to a four year old? She's smart, but I don't think she'll ever understand why I had to lie to her. Dad was right . . . the truth doesn't set you free," Jordan commented as she pulled away from me. She dried her eyes on a cocktail napkin.
"You don't have to tell her about me . . . maybe I should leave town. I'm sorry, Jordan . . . I didn't mean to come back and do this," I replied.
"Woody . . . you don't have to leave . . . It's just that Calleigh loves Nigel. Nigel loves Calleigh more than I thought he ever thought he could. After Nigel got sick, Calleigh became his world. Nigel became Calleigh's world . . . she would lay in the hospital bed next to him. She would kiss his cheek after the chemo treatments. How do I tell my little girl that Nigel isn't her father," Jordan replied as she went back to cleaning up behind the bar. I took off my coat and began loading glasses into the autoclave. Jordan looked like she felt guilty; guilty for wishing that maybe I would never come back. I instantaneously felt guilty for coming back.
"Nigel was sick?" I asked.
"Cancer. It's gone now, but I don't think I can go through that again. I told him that we would stay a family . . . he needs us," Jordan said. The tears ran down her cheeks again; Nigel's hair had been shorter . . . he did look thinner. So much had changed in five years. I didn't know if I would ever fit into those changes. I didn't know how to fit into those changes. Jordan had been thrown into so many roles that were foreign to her . . . she was a caretaker, a mother, and a life partner.
"She likes cops," I commented, "Nigel said that she was a social belle."
"She's smart . . . she has the vocabulary of a second grader. Nigel and I have been teaching her to read . . . she's going to grow up to be something wonderful," Jordan replied; she startled when there was a knock at the front door. I went to answer it.
"Detective Hoyt?" Sydney said as I opened the door. He was carrying a huge gift wrapped box. It must be for the party tomorrow.
"Sydney," I said as I let him in.
"Jo, I can't make it tomorrow, so I thought I would drop off tonight," Sydney said as he walked over to the bar. I locked the door.
"Thank you. How was your shift?" Jordan asked. I watched as they fell into a comfortable conversation that was so much less strained than the ones Jordan and I engaged in.
"Uneventful. I need to go get some sleep. Tell my favorite girl, to have a happy birthday," Sydney said as he placed the package on the bar. I knew that I would be discussed later; I knew that Dr. Macy would have his chance to put in his two cents.
"She's going to miss you tomorrow. I'll see you at work on Monday," Jordan said as I opened the door for Sydney. He disappeared into the snow; I locked the door.
"She looks so much like you," I said as I walked back to the bar.
"I don't know if that's a good or bad thing," Jordan replied.
"I can't imagine her being any more beautiful . . . she's beautiful just like her mother," I replied. I hadn't meant to be so forward; I hadn't intended to knock Jordan off balance again.
"Thank you, Woody. What else do you want to know about Calleigh," Jordan asked. She had become so much more intuitive; she seemed to pick up on the subtle emotions that she used to miss.
"Is she healthy?" I asked. That's all that seemed to matter; she should be healthy and happy.
"Very healthy. It was a rough pregnancy, but everything has evened out since," Jordan replied. She smiled. She was thinking about her pregnancy . . . Calleigh . . . Nigel.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there," I replied. I was really sorry that I wasn't there. I wished I could have been with Jordan . . . I hoped that someday Calleigh would understand.
"You did what you needed to," Jordan replied. I wasn't sure if that was her way of forgiving me; I wanted forgiveness more than ever. I wondered what I would have done if I knew that Jordan was pregnant; I wasn't sure if I would have come back to Boston. I wanted to believe that I would have, but Boston held so many bad memories. Five years ago, I needed to get away from those memories.
"Jordan, what role do I get to play in her life?" I asked. Jordan looked at the bar top; she didn't look like she had any idea what to say to me.
"I don't know . . . I'll need to talk to Nigel. He's a huge part of her life," Jordan replied. She looked conflicted; she looked so much more tired than I remembered. Jordan looked so much weaker. She looked like she needed Nigel; I guessed that Nigel probably needed her just as much.
"I understand. I think I'm ready to close. Thank you for staying," Jordan replied as she turned the house lights off. I followed her into one of the back rooms. Her desk was covered in pictures of the little girl; I stopped to admire each one. I wanted to ask Jordan about the circumstances of each picture. I knew that was inappropriate. Jordan was dealing with enough right now . . . I hadn't even begun to figure out what I was feeling.
I walked her to her car. She thanked me.
"When can I see you again?" I asked. I really meant to ask when she might come to a decision about Calleigh and the developing custody triangle.
"Tomorrow is Calleigh's birthday party . . . it's at the Pogue at noon. You should stop by," Jordan replied. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea; I knew Nigel and Dr. Macy would never approve of that, but I had already missed so much. I didn't want to miss anymore.