Chapter Twelve

"Jordan…" Woody called over the sea of holiday travelers in the Milwaukee airport. "Jordan…"

She spun around and found him…God, he looked good. In a heartbeat, he had her in his arms, hugging her tightly. Oh, sweet Jesus, he feels better than he looks, she thought as she held him to her. "I missed you, Woody," she finally said, pulling away to look in his blue eyes. His color was better…the dark circles were gone. He looked rested. He looked like….he looked like Woody. The Woody she used to know a year ago. With a glimmer of hope running through her body, she realized her Farm Boy might just be back.

"I've missed you, too," he said, gently pushing a curl behind her ear.

"Don't mean to break up this party, but if we want to miss the five o'clock Milwaukee factory traffic, we're going to have to grab your luggage and run," Cal said, as he pulled Jordan away from Woody's arms and into his own for a quick hug. "How's it going, Jordan? Miss me, too?"

Jordan laughed at the two brothers…Cal's joke and Woody's slightly indignant face. By the time Woody had called her last night, she had already had an e-ticket on reserve for her at the airport. She had told him yes, without hesitation. She would be glad to come to Kewuanne and spend Easter with him and his family. Her dad still wasn't back from wherever he was at and it would be a slow weekend at the Pogue. She had boarded the plane and came out to Wisconsin without a second thought.

"I'm sure spending Easter in Wisconsin has never crossed your mind," said Cal as they put her luggage in the back of his SUV.

"Well, no…but when you're invited by the Hoyt brothers…it's hard to decline," she replied.

"I just hope it's not all too much for you," Woody whispered, almost wistfully, to her as they drove back to Cal's apartment.

Jordan took his hand. "It won't be. It's just good to see you…you look so much better."

He smiled at her. "I feel better. I feel….normal again."

Jordan smiled back at him. That was the best news she had heard in a long time.

Jordan dressed carefully for the Good Friday evening services at St. Paul's. She had not attended church regularly since her mother died, but she knew Woody went to early Mass every Sunday. Her attendance was spotty, at best. But he had told her to bring a couple of nice outfits to wear to church, to the Friday services and then on Easter Sunday. She actually had shopped for the occasion, finally settling for a simple, black dress for the Friday evening service and a soft, pink outfit for Sunday. In her sleeveless, black dress, a simple strand of pearls around her neck, and matching earrings, she looked beautiful. But with her hair up, accenting her neck and shoulders, she looked stunning, Woody thought as she came out of the bedroom. He heard his own swift intake of breath and Cal's echoing his.

"Do I look okay?" she asked.

"You're beautiful," Woody replied, gently taking her hand.

"Oh yeah. Can't wait to see the reaction from the girls on this," Cal said, grabbing his keys as they made their way back out to his car.

"The girls?" Jordan questioned, looking Woody in the eye.

"I'll explain this evening," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Cal gave him an impatient frown over the top of Jordan's head. Woody grinned back at his brother and shook his head.

"I've missed something," Jordan said, her eyes narrowing at the brothers. Cal chuckled.

"I'll explain that, too," Woody said. The first day Jordan had been there, Woody had studiously avoided Kewuanne, instead taking Jordan to the brewery for the tour and a few other places…mainly getting caught up on what was happening in Boston. He had quietly promised her that he would begin to tell her everything after Good Friday services. She had agreed and asked no questions, sensing that what he needed to tell her should be done in his own time and his own way.

Cal had frowned even harder at him when Woody took the couch that night and gave Jordan the bed. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"It's not the right time, man."

"When's the right time going to be?"

"I don't know. I just know it's not going to be at my brother's apartment when he's within listening distance and could give running commentary."

"Who knows -- I may be able to give helpful hints…but you'll never know if you don't get busy with the lady."

Woody had smacked Cal on the back of the head and settled down on the couch, wishing he was beside of her, just holding her, but it wasn't the right time and he knew it.

He hoped maybe that would change tonight as he helped Jordan out of the SUV, took her arm in his and led her into St. Paul's. Aunt Jean, the girls, and their families were already seated. He took a program from the usher and quietly sat down behind his aunt. Jean turned her head and caught sight of him. "Woody…you made it. I thought you were going to be late."

"No. I promised. Aunt Jean, this is Jordan. Dr. Jordan Marie Cavanaugh. Jordan, this is my Aunt Jean."

The women briefly shook hands and Jordan caught the look Jean passed to her nephew. Soon all the heads beside Jean turned to peruse the female medical examiner, but there was no time for pleasantries as the priest stood and began the service. Cal slid in the pew beside Woody. "Where are your parents?" Jordan whispered. She had figured that one of the reasons Woody may have wanted her to come to Wisconsin was to meet his mom and dad.

"I'll introduce you after the services," he whispered back. The simple beauty of the service then held both of their attention. After the last benediction, Jordan was swamped…meeting the cousins and their spouses…boyfriends…assorted small children….and other friends of Woody's from Kewuanne. It wasn't until later after the service, when Woody was talking to yet another old high school buddy, that Jordan sat down on the pew and looked over one of the service's programs. Easter lilies had been placed in the small parish church in memory of loved ones. The deceased had been listed on the back of the program. Jordan idly read through them, thinking in the back of her mind she needed to see if she could do something like this for her mother next year, when midway through the list, a name caught her eye….Mr. and Mrs. Robert Lee Hoyt. Woody's parents? Wordlessly, she stared at Woody, catching his eye. From his vantage point, he saw she had the back of the program in her hand and her face was asking a lot of questions he now knew it was time to answer. "Excuse me," he said to his friend. Walking over to Jordan, he sat down. "I think we need to talk now," he said, reaching for her hand and helping her up.

He led her out the side door of the church and into the graveyard, down the path, to his parents' grave site.

"Why…why….haven't you said anything, Woody? I mean, all those times I told you that you didn't understand…that you couldn't…you did. Why didn't you say something?"

"I couldn't. In a way, you had accepted your mother's death better than I accepted mine. I had so much to cope with after she died, I just never took the time to grieve her…or accept it."

Looking at the date on the stone, Jordan did the math in her head. "Five…no, four. You were four when your mom died…?"

Woody nodded. Standing there, in the quiet of the cemetery, in the cool afternoon sun, he told her everything about his mom…what happened to his dad….why Aunt Jean and Uncle Lloyd had raised him. About his too-short football career.

She listened in quiet amazement to his story, looking between the blue of his eyes and the cold, gray headstone of his parents. "So this … all of this…is the reason for the Prozac?"

"It was the start. Once dad died, I could barely function. The doctors put me on it to help me deal with my grief. It was experimental back then…the side effects weren't known. I just know it helped. When I tried to come off of it, the grief would overwhelm me. Then when I couldn't play football…anyway, things just got worse and I refused to stop taking it. It helped me cope."

"And then when Devan died…."

"It was like the whole grief process for everything started all over again. Not just for her. For me, Cal, Mom, Dad…and you. The Oxycontin helped even more than the Prozac. It didn't help me cope, it numbed me. Completely. To everything. To the hurt…to the grief….to you."

Jordan looked up into his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Woody. I didn't mean to hurt you, too. For a long time, I just wasn't sure…there was so much in my past that I was dealing with. Then it seemed that when I was ready, you weren't…for a relationship. I didn't mean to reject you…I wasn't…"

"You had to deal with some tough issues, too. I know."

"That still doesn't make it right." Jordan felt like she had irrevocably wounded her friend in some way and could never make it up to him. She shivered at the thought and the coolness of the evening that was settling in. She ran her hands up and down her arms. She hadn't thought to bring a sweater with her…she figured after the services, they'd end up back at Cal's apartment.

Woody caught the movement and took his suit coat off and draped in over her shoulders. "There…that'll keep you warm until we can get back in Cal's SUV," he said.

Then he caught the look in her eyes…and the tears that were gathering up in puddles beneath her lids, threatening to storm down her cheeks. "No… please…don't cry, Jordan. I didn't mean to …or want to…make you cry. Please…" He ran the pad of his thumb under her eye to catch the first tear. Before he could help himself, he was holding her face in his hands and gently brushed her lips with his. She didn't back away…not like she had before. "Jordan?" he whispered.

She pulled away then, but it was only to bury her face in his shirt. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Woody. I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

He wrapped his arms around her then…taking her slight weight against him. "What's to forgive? We both had issues we needed to deal with…in our own ways in our own time. But now, maybe that's behind us? Maybe we can start over?" He felt her nod against his chest.

"I'd like to," she whispered. "I'd like that very much."