Chapter Nineteen

She had redone her hair three times, finally deciding on letting it go naturally wavy, falling down past her shoulders. She faired better with her make up….she only redid her eyes twice. Then she nervously got dressed, putting on barely there underwear and then sliding into a new black dress she had bought on a whim for herself at Christmas. It clung to her in all the right places, was off the shoulders and had long sleeves. And everything was working well, except for the fact that she couldn't get the back zipped up all the way. She struggled and struggled.

A knock at the door brought her out of her contortions. "Come in….the door's open," she called out to Charles.

"Jordan? Where are you at?" he said, not seeing her in the living room.

"In here…the back bedroom."

"Waiting for me in the bedroom all ready? Gee, and we haven't even had dinner yet…" he teased.

"Goof. I can't get my dressed zipped up."

He watched her struggle for a minute, observing her from the doorway. "Need some help?"

"If you want to eat tonight, I do."

He walked over and stood behind her, slowly zipping her dress up the back, letting his fingers linger just a little too long on her skin…she felt the sparks his fingers left along her spine. Shutting her eyes, she wished for an instant he was taking the dress off of her instead of helping her put it on. Jordan had never been more conflicted in her life…she still loved Woody, but this man – Charles – touched her soul. He was willing to give her time…but how much time would it take?

"Ready to go?" he asked, after he was through, gently pulling her back against him.

"Yeah. Let me get my coat." Even to her, she sounded breathless.

She got through dinner without melting under his gaze. She couldn't remember what she ate…but she remembered she had three glasses of wine. They talked about everything…but them…the tension in the air.

Woody knew she was nervous…and he knew what was going on in her head…the need to still remain loyal to her husband while dealing with the new feelings she had for "Charles." He was going out of his way to ease her tensions…especially knowing what he was going to tell her tonight. He took her home and walked her to the door. "May I come in?" he asked. "Just for a few minutes…I need to talk to you, and it won't take long."

Jordan opened the door and they both walked in. Now was the time. This was when they were going to draw the boundaries for their relationship. Her problem was, she wasn't sure quite how she felt about whom….Charles or Woody. "Charles…." She began.

"No. Jordan. Before you start, I wanted to talk to you about a case I'm on."

"A case?" she asked. With everything between them, he wanted to talk about a case?

"Yeah. I need you to tell me what I need to do with this…" He pulled something from his pocket, took her hand, and placed it in her palm. She looked at it and blinked. It didn't go away. She felt like all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs…all the oxygen went out of the room. Jordan had never fainted…not once in her life…but she was on the verge.

It was Woody's wedding ring.

She looked at Charles and then at the ring…and then back at Charles, not understanding…then trying to understand… "How…" was the first thing out of her mouth. How did Charles get Woody's wedding ring…He had it on when he visited her in Phoenix. His body had been completely incinerated…the ring must have melted in the wreck…unless. The realization began to dawn on her confused mind. "No," she said backing away from him. "No. It can't be…you can't…" she kept walking backwards until she hit a wall. Woody followed her.

"Yes, Jordan. It's me…I swear."

She shook her head in disbelief. "No….you're dead. Nigel said so…he signed your death certificate. Nigel wouldn't lie to me…not about this."

"Not if he didn't know. It's a long story, Jo. My car didn't blow up immediately. I got out and was trying to help the others out of their cars when the explosion happened. I was blown yards away from the wreck. But I suffered third degree burns over about sixty percent of my body. I was in the hospital for months…over a year. Therapy. Skin grafts. Reconstructive surgery. I took most of the blast head on. There wasn't a lot of me left for the plastic surgeon to work with. That's why I don't look anything like I used to. Underneath this beard, I have one dimple left…but little else you'd remember. But here," he pointed to his heart, "is the same man you married. The same man that loves you. The same man you fell in love with. The same man you're in love with now."

Jordan still was shaking her head. "No. It can't be. I saw pictures. No one survived that blast."

"I did. Will this help you believe me?" He loosened his tie and took it off. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. "See that?" He pointed to a birthmark on his chest, right above his waistline.

She still wasn't buying it. "No…but ….no…." She was shaking her head and trembling.

"Then how about this? Your mother's name was Emily. You spent most of your adult life looking for her murderer. Your favorite color is pink. You have a poster of the Indigo Girls in the laundry room. They're one of your favorite groups. We first met a bank robbery scene and you hated my ties. We first kissed in the California desert and then you wouldn't kiss me again for a very long time. You're ticklish on your ribs. You have a birthmark on your upper thigh and the sweetest little mole on your…." She stopped him. "That's enough." She put a shaky hand on his face, as if to brush the beard aside and see him…as he was….and as he is now. "Woody…" she finally breathed out.

He watched as emotion after emotion chased each other across her face. He didn't know what she was going to do…fling her arms around his neck, or ask him more questions.

But what happened next completely threw him off guard.

"Get out."

"Jordan?"

"You heard me. Get out."

"But…"

"The Woody I knew wouldn't have done this to me. He would have called or had someone call me when he regained consciousness. He wouldn't have made me wait. He wouldn't have made be deal with being a widow. He wouldn't have let me continue to grieve so hard that I didn't know if I was going to be able to take my next breath. He wouldn't have done this to me because he loved me.

"You're not Woody. I don't know why I thought you reminded me of him…you're nothing like him…I don't know where you got that ring…how you knew…but I don't appreciate it. Not a bit. Playing on my emotions like this.

"So…get out. Please. Now."

"But Jordan…."

"You heard me. GET OUT!" The force of the last phrase took the wind out of him. Looking at her face, he knew she was close to an emotional meltdown…she didn't need to be alone, but she obviously didn't need him. He swallowed hard.

"Okay, Jordan. I'll leave. But you're going to have questions…and I have the answers. So when you're ready…let me know." He walked to the door. Opening it, he paused before he left, looking at her one more time. She was still standing with hers back to the wall…looking at the ring he left in her hand, tears running down her face. He wanted to go back over to her … hold her…reassure her that it was really him and everything was going to be okay. "Jordan?" he asked one more time.

"Just…please…go."