Chapter Eight

ReclaimingHer Life

She backed away from Woody in utter horror over what she had just said. "Oh my God," she whispered, one hand over her mouth and the other reaching out to him beseechingly. "Oh God….I am so sorry, Woody…I didn't mean it…I just…just…..I'm sorry…"

Woody reached out to take her hand, but she turned and ran out of the room, down the hall and was on the elevator before he could stop her. "Jordan…wait….stop…" he called after her as he tried his best to keep up, but his legs still didn't respond as quickly as he liked sometimes.

"What is it?" Nigel asked, coming out of his office. "What's wrong?"

"It's Jordan…I accidentally startled her…and she's took off."

Nigel gave him a worried look. "Did she say where she was going?"

"No…she was just gone like a bolt of lightning."

"Did you see what direction she went?"

"No…I still can't move as fast…"

"That's okay, Woody. She's got her cell phone. I'll try her on that." But Nigel was worried…Jordan still never went anywhere by herself….He pressed three on his phone…her number was on speed dial, but no answer. "Damn," he muttered, disconnecting and trying again. Still no answer.

"Her GPS?" Woody asked. "Can we find her?"

Nigel raked his fingers through his long hair. "Give her a little while. If I haven't heard from her in two hours, I'll trace it."

"Are you sure she'll be all right in the meantime?"

Nigel nodded. "She has come a long way…she still has a ways to go…but she is getting better, Woody."

Woody nodded. "I've got to get back to the office….call me when you find her? Please?"

"Sure."

But it would be nearly three hours before Nigel made the call. He finally traced Jordan to O'Malley's…a popular bar hang-out with the morgue staff, sitting in a back booth, nursing what appeared to be her seventh or eighth shot of tequila.

"You know that isn't going to help anything," he said, sliding into the booth to sit in front of her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But it will make me feel better at least for a little while." She traced the rim of one of the glasses with a finger. Nigel pulled the glass away before she could swallow its contents.

"So do you want to tell me what happened, Jordan? Why did you run away from Woody…did he startle you that badly?'

She shook her head, and waited for the room to stop spinning. "It wasn't the fact he scared me, Nige. He touched me."

Nigel nodded. Woody had omitted that fact. "And you freaked out."

She nodded miserably. "He touched my back for Christ's sake…my back. Totally unthreatening…totally platonic…and I couldn't handle it. When is my life going to go back to normal? When?" She buried her head in her arms on the table.

"It will, Jordan…at least in some aspects. But right now, I need to get you home."

"Woody…I told Woody….the man I still love…not to touch me again…ever. Oh God, Nigel…what have I done? I've pushed him away for good now…haven't I?"

Nigel looked at her with sad eyes. "I don't think so…he knows he scared you and you weren't acting rationally. I think everything will be all right."

"Nigel…I've got to get over this…or at least work through it. I can't keep living like this…I can't keep you living like this.."

"Then you know what you need to do, Jordan."

She nodded as the tall man helped her out of the booth, out the door, and into the car. "I know…" she said. "I'll call Dr. Stiles tomorrow."

That phone call was one of the toughest she had to make. But it also was one of the most helpful.

"You'll get past this, Jordan. You have got to give yourself permission to take the time you need to move forward…whether it's slow or fast….you need to take the time you need. You do want to put this behind you, don't you?" Dr. Stiles gently probed.

Jordan nodded.

"Then realize that some things in your life will always be different. And that's okay. You survived. You'll continue to survive."

Some things in my life will always be different, she mused, coming out of her fifth session with Stiles. She wondered what would change. She still couldn't pull herself out of her dark, baggy clothes, but at least she felt she could wear make up now. And she still wasn't living by herself, she was still entrenched in Nigel's apartment, but she was staying for longer and longer stretches by herself.

But she still didn't like to be touched. She winced when she thought about that day in trace with Woody. He still came around and acted as if nothing had happened…that she had never snapped at him. She had tried to apologize to him again…several times….and each time he stopped her. "It was my fault…I shouldn't have startled you," he told her. "Don't worry…it's already forgotten."

But he had never touched her again…She was relieved and sorry at the same time. A part of her remembered just how comforting his touch was…when he had held her before, or slow danced with her at the Pogue.

It's probably better this way, she thought. Our relationship may be over….but at least we're civil and can work with each other without World War III breaking out. Besides…after what happened to me….who am I kidding? I don't feel attractive…remotely like a woman any longer…and the thought of intimacy on any level is too scary to contemplate…even with the man I love, she mused for a few minutes. Especially with the man I love, she concluded.

What she didn't realize was that the man she loved knew what had happened to her and it didn't matter to him…she still was beautiful…even more so with this new air of vulnerability. It made him all the more protective towards her…and all the more compassionate.

And spurred him to move heaven and earth to find this attacker.

And when he did, Woody hoped to hell the man was armed and dangerous, because nothing would delight him more than to kill the son of a bitch.

Another woman came into the morgue…that had been brutally attacked and then murdered. It wasn't the condom rapist's work, but it was a female victim. Nigel and Woody both had tried to shield Jordan from the fact, but she had found out.

And while she was grateful for their protectiveness and care, she knew instinctively now was the time to move on. She looked out over the Boston skyline from her perch on the morgue roof. This was her city…her hometown….her life. And now was the time to reclaim it. She had dragged her feet for too long…true, she had needed time to heal, but it had been months since her attack. She was fine physically. Emotionally…she was more stable. And now was the time to take the next step in putting the whole incident behind her and getting on with her life. Resolutely she came down off the roof andfound her way to Woody's office.