Chapter Eight

An Anchor

Springtime broke in Boston with all the gusto of an Easter parade…flowers were blooming, trees were budding, the birds returned, and the temperatures rose to hint at summer, vacations, and warm sea breezes. But for Jordan, it may have well as remained a New England winter. She felt bleak, cold, and frozen in time…despite all the positive changes that had occurred in her life.

She was working until three or four in the afternoon now, more out of the need to stay busy than any real improvement with her health. She still stayed tired and cold…and the meds she was on still caused nausea. But if she left work early, she found herself with too much time to think, which wasn't always a good thing.

Jordan had also moved out of Garret's house and away from so much doctor supervision. She had looked for an apartment for weeks…something small and easy to care for. Her former Pearle Street apartment had long been rented out, so that was out of the question. She had pounded the pavement for weeks looking for a new home.

Ironically, it was Woody who finally came to her rescue in this issue. A soft knock on her office door had gotten her attention a few weeks ago. "I hear you're looking for an apartment?" he asked.

She had nodded.

"Any luck?"

"Not much. I just want something like a loft apartment right now…one that's easy to take care of and small. I still don't think I could handle anymore than that."

Woody pulled away from the door, reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a brochure. "The building I'm living in now has a few apartments available. A couple of them are lofts. Here's the information…if you want, I'll take you over there at lunch and you can have a look at them."

Jordan unfolded the brochure and looked at it carefully. The lofts were well laid out and the price was right. Woody had taken her over during her lunch hour and after perusing one of the apartments, she had signed a year's lease.

And Woody had let out a sigh of relief. At least he could keep an eye and ear out for her now…be sure she was all right, without having to be so damn obvious. He had to constantly remind himself that they were really in the time warp from hell. While he had had the time to process their relationship and the myriad of things that had gone wrong…the hurtful things said, Jordan hadn't. His idiotic behavior…pushing her away…the pain was still very fresh in her mind. He had to be very careful with her.

Jordan sighed as she looked out the window of her new apartment, noting all the changes that were going on outside… and inside her heart. Tonight her building was holding a "mixer"…sort of like a block party for all the apartment dwellers. There was a band and dancing…food. Woody had asked her earlier this week if she was going to attend.

She told him she might.

"It would do you good, Jordan. You'd get to meet the people in the building…we could even hang out a little while …sort of like old times?" he had asked.

"I'll see," she replied, without a lot of enthusiasm.

"Are you still not feeling back to normal?" he asked sharply, remembering their long-ago conversation in the park.

She shook her head. "I still get tired by late afternoon…I still have trouble focusing…"

"What does Dr. Cruz say?"

"That this is normal and may continue for a while…"

He took her by the shoulders. "You need to do something besides go to work and come back to this apartment. I want to see you at that mixer."

She wasn't there. Woody had waited for nearly an hour on her and she didn't show up. His mind was telling him all kinds of things. She could have worked longer…she could be out with friends.

Or she could be holding herself up in that apartment in her self-imposed exile. Determinedly he rode the elevator to her floor and knocked on her door. A minute later, she answered.

"Are you coming?" he asked an edge of impatience to his voice … until he caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes. Jordan had been crying. "Are you okay?" he asked, the impatience giving way to concern.

"Yeah….I'm fine. Just….a bad day."

He closed her door and pulled her inside to the couch. "Talk to me," he said "Tell me what happened…one too many dead bodies? Macy riding you about paperwork?"

She shook her head. "No….it's me."

"Has Dr. Cruz told you anything I need to know?"

Again, she shook her head. "No. This is just me…how I feel. I still feel like everyone has moved light years ahead in their lives during the time I was in a coma and that there's no way I'm going to catch up with them….I've tried, but it seems like I'm stuck and can't move ahead. I feel….I feel … lost. Like maybe I shouldn't have woken up…."

"Don't ever say that," he replied in such a tone of voice that she looked at him with startled eyes. "After watching you for two years… wondering… waiting… praying….Don't ever let me hear that come out of your mouth again."

Jordan took a deep breath. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I know it sounds like I'm ungrateful…but I'm not. I'm still just trying to figure out where I fit in…I guess I'm just tired of working so hard to understand the past and move on with my life. I'm tired of being so exhausted by two or three o'clock that I need a nap…when I used to be able to work until seven and then stay out past midnight. I want the old me back…but I want the same people I knew two years ago back, too. And they're not there. They've gone on with their lives….are with new people…and I'm so lonely…and just…lost."

"Jordan…."

"I know…I know…I know what you're going to say….I only have myself to blame…that I need to put myself out there more…"

"No," he interrupted suddenly, cupping her chin in one of his hands. "That's not it.

I was about to say I understand how you feel. It took me a year after the shooting to get back to somewhere near where I was before…to feel like a whole person again. To feel like me. So give yourself some time." He studied her closely for a second. "Meanwhile, go change and come downstairs with me. At least get something to eat." He smiled a full smile at her then…complete with dimples. "Come on…please?"

"Do you mind waiting on me? I won't be more than a minute."

"Go. Take your time. I'll be here when you're ready."

With that, Jordan made her way to her bathroom and shut the door. Woody watched her retreat. He understood full well how Jordan felt. The insecurity. The fears. The need to stay somewhere familiar just to feel safe…the seeming irrational inability to leave the house. The desire to "nest" instead of getting out. He knew and understood it all better than she thought he did.

But in his mind, his promise to himself that he would look out for her and take care of her included getting her over this hump. And that meant making sure she was getting out. So when he heard the bathroom door open back up, he stood up and was determined that she was going downstairs with him and have a good time. He turned to face her…

And lost his breath.

She looked effortlessly wonderful in a blue halter dress.

And painfully thin.

He wondered how he could have overlooked that little fact and for how long had he not noticed. He swallowed this new fear for Jordan and reached out of her hand. "C'mon. Let's go."

He held her hand all the way downstairs and then possessively made sure his hand was at the small of her back as they made their way through the crowds of people. Woody was afraid that if he didn't hold onto her in some way, she'd float away from him...be gone forever somewhere on the horizon….she was that thin. Wordlessly he guided her to the food where she grabbed a pretzel and a ginger ale while Woody got a beer from the bar. "Pretty nice, huh?" he asked as he steered her to an outside table.

"It is…and it's a beautiful evening."

He was about to confirm her statement when he heard "Hoyt," from off to the side. It was Danny, his next door neighbor. "Wait here," Woody said. "I'll be right back…okay?" he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sure…"

"I won't be long."

"I'll just listen to the band…"

"And stay there…with so many people I may not be able to find you again…" Woody reluctantly left her…hoping that for once Jordan would do what he asked…just stay there. But if the past was any indication of the present, if Jordan wanted to leave, she would…she had never adjectively done anything he had asked.

So he was pleasantly surprised to return to the table several minutes later to find her sitting there, but not alone. Jordan was gamely trying to fight off the advances of a very drunk neighbor. He heard her say in a breathless voice, "No…I can't go with you … I'm waiting on someone…."

"She's waiting on me," Woody cut in, giving the man a hard look and flashing his detective's badge at him. "The lady is with me," he declared, reaching for Jordan's hand and pulling her to her feet, flush against him. "So the best thing for you to do is go find yourself a quiet spot somewhere and sober up a little before you get into some real trouble." Woody's arm snaked around her waist and held her to him until the guy ambled off on unsteady feet.

Jordan felt her rapid heartbeat try to return to normal….not that that was an easy thing to do with her body snuggled tightly against Woody's. She had never been so glad to see him in her life. She wasn't having a lot of success fending the drunk man off…and was way too much of a lightweight to be the least bit intimidating. Woody's warm, hard arms were reassuring comfort to her adjusting world – an anchor for her to cling to.

She could only pray he would let her cling to him a little longer.