Chapter Twenty

Jordan passed the next few days in a fog. Her body may have been present, but her mind was elsewhere. Charles….Woody….made it a point to stay away from her during this time. She saw him from a distance, and he saw her, but neither made an attempt to talk with each other. Her emotions were still in an uproar…still trying to figure things out. Her work didn't suffer. If anything, she poured herself into it at an even more dedicated pace. But she wasn't herself…she was quieter, more withdrawn…the most introverted she had been since she was declared a widow.

Woody noticed it and was worried. He finally pinned her down in trace on afternoon…it was just her and him in the room. Everyone else had gone home. "What's it going to take, Jordan?" he asked. "What's it going to take for you to believe me?"

She looked at the man…with the blue eyes…who claimed he was Woody. He knew things about her that only Woody would…her birthmark….the mole. Her mind was still in turmoil…her heart and soul wanted him to be her husband so much…But Woody wouldn't have done this to her…

Unless he thought that maybe she had moved on with her life and had accepted his death. Then he wouldn't have come back to interrupt it. Or if he had thought that on some level, he may be an invalid and didn't want to burden her. She walked over to him and looked up into those eyes that could still be her undoing. "I want to believe you…I really do. You have no idea…if you really are Woody….how much I've missed you….how much I still love you. But…if you are who you say you are…I'm going to need more proof. Evidence. Forensic evidence. And you won't be offended by me asking for it."

He nodded, gazing down into her eyes. "I know, Jordan. I am Woody…I promise. I'll get you the evidence you need…that you deserve. Give me day or two, okay?"

She nodded as he left trace and headed for the elevators.

An incessant banging on the door and ringing of the doorbell woke Jordan out of a Saturday morning sleep. It was early, even for her, on a Saturday. Grabbing her robe, she opened the front door and was met by a man she had never seen before. "May I help you?" she asked, cautiously making sure that the storm door remained locked between herself and this stranger.

The man smiled at her. "I don't think you can help me, but I can help you." He held up a police shield. "My name is Peter Brannigan…and I'm with the LAPD. I'm a friend of Woody's. May I come in?" Woody had called him earlier in the week and begged him to come and talk to Jordan. It was the only tactic Woody knew that Jordan would believe….a witness that had proof.

Jordan opened the door and let him in. "Coffee?" she asked.

"That would be great. Better put on a full pot. This is going to take a while." He made himself comfortable in the kitchen while she brewed the coffee. When it was done, she put the cups, coffeepot, creamer, and sugar on a tray and set it on the table. Then she took a seat across from him.

"So how do you know Woody?" she asked.

"Met him when he came out to LA about a sheriff who had been killed and dropped out of a plane in Kewuanne."

Jordan smiled. "Sunny D."

Brannigan grinned. "Yeah. You don't know how close you came to losing him to us then. I wanted to keep him. But it seemed some medical examiner told him that his home was in Boston and she'd be there waiting for him."

Jordan looked down at her coffee cup. Sighing, she said, "So what's going on with Woody? Why are you here this early on a Saturday morning?"

"He called me a couple of days ago. Said he told you that this guy, Charles, was really him. And you had a hard time believing him. I don't blame you. He looks nothing like he did before the accident."

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Well, Charles is Woody, Jordan. I know. As soon as he regained consciousness in the LA burn unit, the he had the doctors call me. I came in and was totally shocked by his appearance….bandages everywhere…and when those came off, there wasn't a lot of him left. I watched him undergo painful therapy…he had to learn to walk again," he paused for a moment and took a packet of photos out of his pocket. "This is some of the stuff he had to go through."

Jordan looked through the stack of pictures with amazement… and horror. "Why didn't someone call me?"

"I tried to get him to…or let me call you, and he wouldn't hear of it. He didn't want to burden you….he was very, very sick and you know how burn victims can be….some days it's literally minute by minute with their recovery. I understand he flat-lined four times." He heard Jordan's sharp intake of breath.

"Yeah. The boy's a walking miracle. He didn't want to burden you and by the time we knew he was going to make it, he still had months of recovery ahead of him….more therapy, skin grafts, reconstructive surgery….he knew you'd hop a plane and be with him in a heartbeat and he felt like he had interrupted your life enough. That's why he wouldn't call you and or allow me to."

"But why did he come back to Boston as Charles Scott Williams….why not just tell me straight up who he was and what happened?"

"Would you have believed him? I mean, it's been a little over two years since he was declared dead. Would you have believed him, knowing how he looks now…nothing like the Woody you used to know? He wasn't sure what was going on with you…if you'd take him back or if maybe you had moved on with your life…and he was still adjusting to looking like a stranger. So he thought maybe a new identity would help him ease into his new look…and then he could help you adjust…if you wanted to."

"If I wanted to?"

"Do you, Jordan? He called out for you when his fever put him in deliriums. He still loves you."

She drew in a shaky breath. "I love him, too. I just had to know. I just had to know why…was he deliberately deceiving me for some reason….or was he just trying to help me accept him the way he is now."

"It's the latter. He never wanted to hurt you again. I'm sure of that. So now you know Jordan. What are you going to do?

She got up from the table and put her coffee cup in the sink. "I'm going to go talk to him…do you know where he lives? "

Brannigan chuckled and wrote the address on a napkin. "Here you go." He walked to the door, Jordan following him.

"Thanks, Peter. So much. You just cleared up a lot of questions."

Peter smiled at her. "My pleasure. Now….go get dressed and go see your husband."