Chapter Three
She's Hurting
He had been back at the 19th for a month now and hadn't seen her. Not once. The rational voice in his head kept telling him that this was a good thing. If he didn't see her, he wouldn't think about her. And if he didn't think about her, he wouldn't remember how close they came to having a relationship. How close they came to really falling in love.
The irrational part of him wanted to see her. Not to try to jump-start a dead relationship, but just to look at her. Make sure she was alright. Find out why she wasn't working as many hours. Was she ill? Was she back in school? He had asked about her. No one was very forthcoming. Garret had said she was busy with things outside the morgue. He didn't elaborate, but he had peaked Woody's interest.
Nigel avoided the subject all together. When Woody asked the criminalist the same questions he had Garret, the detective came up with less than nothing. "She has her hands full right now," was all Nigel said.
"Is she in any kind of trouble?" Woody responded.
Nigel paused a minute. "No. For once in her life, Jordan's not in any kind of trouble. She just….needs some time off and she's had the comp. days built up for a long time. She still works, but half days and sometimes odd hours. Mainly trace and standard autopsies."
"And you can't tell me what's going on with her?"
Again Nigel paused. "That's really up to Jordan. She's just….got a lot on her plate at the present and a lot going on in her life. She's playing the cards close to her chest right now…when she's ready, she'll probably tell you what's happening and why she's having to do this."
"But she's okay…health-wise?"
"Jordan's fine, Woody. Honest. Tired…but fine. I saw her this morning and told her you were back at the 19th. She said to tell you welcome home."
So now Woody didn't know what to make of the situation. He didn't know why he even really cared, except for the fact she was the best damn ME he had ever worked with and in the past, she was often the key for solving his cases quickly and efficiently. He kept telling himself that was why he was concerned about her. Professional reasons only.
His heart couldn't rationalize it that easily. But broken hearts take time to heal. Maybe a year wasn't enough. Maybe he needed longer. So, maybe her work situation was for the best. If he didn't see her….his heart would continue to mend. It would heal.
But her dark, locked office kept calling him back. A part of him needed to know why. And for the life of him, he couldn't convince himself he didn't care any longer.
She was in her office. Finally, he caught a glimpse of her…nearly six weeks after he began working back at the 19th. He had to drop off some information for Dr. Macy and decided to run that errand first thing in the morning. It was nearly 7:30…and if she came in early and only worked a half a day, he surmised he would be able to see her.
He had assumed correctly.
She was behind her desk, doing dictation, her back to him. He propped himself against her office door frame and waited for her to finish and click the little recording device off. As far as he could tell, she hadn't changed. "Good morning," he said, when she turned around.
He could tell he startled her. The surprise showed in her eyes. "Woody…" her voice trailed off.
The awkwardness between the two of them was tangible. Both of them wanted to make the first move, but they were each waiting on the other to start. "Woody…" she finally began again.
Only to hear herself be cut off again by him. "It's okay, Jordan," he said, pulling away from her door and walking over to where she was at. "I just came by to see how you were doing. I guess I'm still allowed to care?" It was a question, not a statement.
"Woody…" Jordan felt like her tongue was tied in a thousand knots. What do you say to the man you loved, but yet had been unable to acknowledge that to him…because he wouldn't let you? "It's good to have you back," she finished, when her tongue began to cooperate with her brain again. She ignored his question about caring altogether.
"It's good to be back. How have you been?"
"Me? I'm fine."
"Nigel and Macy told me you were only working half-days and odd hours. What gives?"
She had to give him credit. He was straight to the point. Nervously tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she lowered her eyes for a moment. "I…I…have the time built up. You know me… never took a vacation, a sick day, a day off….and I just needed some time to regroup."
"I don't think so," Woody said, reaching out and lifting her head with his forefinger and thumb so that she would look him in the eyes again. "That's not the whole truth, Jordan. You forget….I know you. What's wrong?"
Jordan took a deep breath. Max would never know how much the months of caring for him had worn on her. Not that she regretted or resented taking care of her father…not for one minute. And Nigel and Garret were aware of Max's state of health, but other than just being supportive of her and her work schedule, there had been nothing they could do.
The entire burden of caring for Max fell squarely on Jordan's shoulders. Shoulders that were becoming increasingly tired and overburdened as Max grew sicker and sicker. Woody had no idea how much she wanted to tell him exactly what was going on….he of all people would understand. His mother had died of cancer. He had been young when it happened, but he remembered well the emotional turmoil a long, painful, death caused.
But she couldn't share her burden with him…not because she didn't want to, but because Max had asked her not to…not to tell anyone he was dying. "The last thing I want and need is a house full of teary-eyed, over-sympathetic people or a bunch of vultures waiting around to watch me breathe my last breath. I'll let the folks know who need to know about my condition…but I'll do it on my terms and when I'm ready. Not before."
What was Jordan supposed to do? She promised her father she wouldn't speak of his condition to anyone. "Nothing," she finally choked out. "Honestly. Nothing, Woody. I just needed some time off."
But he felt her tremble slightly beneath his fingers. No…there was something else wrong. He knew it. His detective instinct was kicking in overdrive now. "Why won't you tell me what's the matter?"
"I can't," she whispered, then covered her mouth with her fingers at her slip-up.
"So there is something wrong?" he asked, his voice taking on a more authoritarian tone.
She lowered her eyes and stepped away from him. "You need to leave now. We've said all we need to say. You told me before you transferred to the 22nd that it was over between us and you were no longer interested in me. I don't think that has changed any. So if there is something wrong, it's no concern of yours." She stepped around him and grabbed her lab coat on the way out to trace.
Woody stood there for a moment. Yeah…there was something wrong alright. He could tell by what she didn't say…how she held her body. He wanted to know what it was…Why bother? The rational side of his brain said. It is over between you two. Concentrate on what you're doing now…who you're seeing. It's obvious that she doesn't want anything to do with you or for you to have anything to do with her. Let go…let her go.
But his heart was beating a different tune…he could tell by the slump her shoulders she was tired…more tired than she usually got just working. A frown lines creased his forehead. One thing remained the same about Woody. He was a boy scout at heart…and administering care to those who were hurting was second nature to him.
And Jordan was hurting. He didn't know why…but he'd find out sooner or later. Sooner, preferably.
