Chapter Twelve

Springfield was a nice town, relatively speaking.

It was quieter than Boston…cleaner, to a degree…nestled back into the western edge of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The population was smaller, but still was enough to give the town an air of "big city" without all the problems that a larger city like Boston has.

During the three years he had been here, Woody had fit in well as a homicide detective with the police department. He had made friends…found another neighborhood bar…and worked with ME's. He had held his breath when he was introduced to the only female ME in Springfield. If she had brown eyes and chestnut hair, he knew he would go off the deep end. Instead, Margie was short, stout, and red-headed. Nearly forty, with three kids and definitely married. Woody had sighed. At least no memories would be stirred up working the Margie.

So Springfield was working out for him….relatively speaking.

Like Jordan, he felt the days, months, and years slide into each other…working themselves into some sort of cosmic jigsaw puzzle. Some days were easier than others. Some days were just plain hard…especially if a big crime came across their website from Boston and her name was mentioned in the article.

Then he'd begin to wonder and worry all over again…how was she? Was she coping better without him there to remind her of everything that could have been? Was she still dealing with the death of their daughter?

Was she coping with that better than he was? Woody had thought that as a man, it would be different for him. He hadn't carried the baby, felt her kick on the inside of him, know the millions of tiny sensations carrying a life can bring. Jordan did.

That's why it surprised him how hard July 11 hit him. He woke up that day, dreading it. On a day when he and Jordan should have been joyfully awaiting the birth of their daughter, he found himself cold, alone, lonesome, and empty. He wanted his daughter. He wanted Jordan. Instead he was by himself in a strange town with strange people who had no clue really why he was there.

But time passed. He concentrated on his job and not his personal life, as one year slipped into two and two into three. He still wondered about her…and at nights still ached to hold her. He had told her he wasn't sure if he would come back to Boston, but lately he wasn't sure if he could continue to exist if the didn't go back there. However, how he would be received by her…he really couldn't guess.

Work…it kept him busy and kept him from thinking too much. He was through processing an arrest and was making his way back to his office when the sergeant stopped him. "Hoyt, you got a visitor. She got here earlier and said she'd wait for you. So I put her in your office. She seemed the quiet type … wouldn't cause any problems."

"Thanks. I'll go there now," he replied, assuming it was the wife of the man he had just arrested for murder. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the break room, opened his office door, and caught his breath.

It was Jordan.

He spilled his coffee as he stumbled toward his desk, his eyes telling him information he wasn't sure whether or not to believe. She reached out for a tissue and helped him mop the mess up. "J…J….J…Jordan," he stammered, "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in?"

He gave her disbelieving look. "Springfield isn't exactly on your way home from work."

She sighed. He didn't sound remotely happy to see her. Honesty was always the best policy…or so she had been told. "I needed to see you, Woody. To find out if you were okay."

"I'm fine, Jordan. And you?"

It was as awkward between them now as it had been before he left. Gamely, she kept up the conversation. "I'm doing well, too."

Neither one of them said anything for a minute or two. But the awkwardness wasn't going to win this time…she was here to make sure of it. Getting up from her chair, she walked over to where he was standing and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said softly, keeping her gaze steady with his blue eyes. "I'm sorry you felt like you had to leave Boston because of me…I'm sorry that things became so very difficult between us…I just needed to come here today to tell you. It's been a long, hard, three years, but I believe I have finally coped with my – our – daughter's death. I still ache for her, but life goes on.

"But more than that, I've missed you, too. I've missed working with you. Boston lost a hell of a homicide detective. I've missed your mind and your insight. I've missed working on cases together with you. I've missed pizza and beer together after work…I've missed playing pool with you.

"I've missed you, Woody. Plain and simple. I shouldn't have said what I did that night before you left…about you running out on me, too. It wasn't fair. We both were trying to deal with something totally new to us the best way we knew how. I'm sorry for that…I feel like I pushed you away from me and out of Boston. I just needed to come here and tell you that to your face…and to ask you to please come home. Back to Boston. It's okay…and I miss you, Woody. I really do." Then standing on her tip toes and leaning up to him, she softly and quickly kissed his lips.

He didn't respond. He didn't say a word or even try to respond the entire time she was there. She sighed as she turned to walk towards his office door. She had tried. And he did look like he was doing well…..a little thinner, perhaps but doing fine.

"Jordan." His voice stopped her dead in her tracks and spun her around.

"Do you mean that? That you want me to come home?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said in a soft voice. "I do."