Chapter Ten

It Will Be a Long Night

"What's on your mind, Jordan?" Garret asked.

"What makes you think there's anything on my mind?" she replied.

"The fact that this is the fifteenth time in the last five minutes you've walked passed my office to see if I was off the phone yet." He smiled at her and waved her through the entrance. "Come in. Shut the door. Talk to me." He pulled put his lower desk drawer and poured them both a finger of Scotch. Sliding her glass across the desk to her, he sat back and propped his feet up on its surface. "So what's on your mind?" he repeated.

Jordan took a sip of the liquid and felt the burn. She didn't drink much now…she was still on some of her meds. But this time, the Scotch began to relax her and give her the liquid courage to find out what she may not really want to know. "I need to ask some questions, Garret. About my coma…about how it happened and what happened. Some of the things leading up to it, I don't remember. I feel like there's some time lapse between what I remember and what actually happened."

Garret nodded. He had been expecting this for quite a while. It had always struck him odd that Jordan didn't ask a whole lot of questions about the accident…that she had accepted what Dr. Cruz said and what he told her without any more investigation on her part. At first Garret had chalked it up to her health. Then he began to realize that on some level, Jordan didn't want to know what happened. "Okay…shoot. I'll tell you what I know…."

"And you'll tell me the truth?"

"Absolutely."

"Promise."

"I solemnly swear to tell you the truth, the whole, truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me, Jordan," he joked back, trying to keep the atmosphere light.

"What happened between Woody and me? Why did I leave his office that night in tears? I mean, I know we were fighting….but why did I go back over there to his office? And if he was so mad at me, why did me coming out of the coma mean so much to him? I remember he told me he was moving on with his life and so should I."

Garret figured that might be coming. Jordan had asked about everyone in great detail since she woke up. She now knew and understood the minutia of everything that had changed since her accident. She was adjusting to the changes.

The one person she had never asked about was Woody.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked, looking at her with gentle eyes.

Jordan stirred uncomfortably in her seat on the couch. Garret always had a way of cutting through the bullshit with her. She threaded her fingers together nervously. "I…he…we…Um…"

"Jordan?" Garret asked. "It's okay…you can tell me."

"When I first woke up, he came to see me in the hospital…"

Garret nodded. At the time he had wondered how wise that move was, but he knew how anxious Woody had been about Jordan's health the entire two years she had been asleep. "I know…"

"And he was all apologetic about the accident…said that it was his fault. And that he was sorry he hurt me by pushing me away…but he was hurting so bad himself that he wanted to hurt me."

"And?"

"I told him to screw his pity and leave…"

Ouch… Garret thought. That was bound to hurt after two years of worry…

"So naturally he's been kind of cold to me…"

"Naturally."

Jordan sighed and rethreaded her fingers together more tightly. "But lately…lately, he's been coming around more. He helped me find an apartment. And we've talked more about the past…how things were before his shooting and my accident. How things are now…."

"And?" Garret gently prompted again when she grew silent and looked away.

"What happened between Woody and me? How did it get this way?"

Garret sighed and gathered his thoughts. He didn't want to candy coat any of the couple's history, but neither did he want Jordan to be burdened with a past that Woody had long since buried. "Do you remember the ring he tried to give you?"

She nodded miserably. She figured that was where it started.

"Then you remember what he told you…about being friends. And you remember his shooting and what he told you?"

"Screw your pity and get out now…" She still winced at the harshness of the words.

"Well, after Woody came back to the police department, you two still had to work together…Slokum wouldn't let you get around it like I would have…There was this case about a man who had been dumped in an alley, but killed elsewhere."

"Peter Howell."

"Right. Anyway, for some reason, that lit the fireworks between you and Woody. You fought like cats and dogs over the case. The evening of your accident, you went over this his office to give him evidence that would back your theory up. He told you off again, He didn't go after you to make sure you were okay and that you calmed down. You had left in tears…"

"And never saw the car that hit me…"

"No. I'm sorry, Jordan."

Jordan digested that information. She knew she had been hurt by what Woody had said…but didn't remember being so upset. "So what did Woody do after my accident?" she asked softly.

Blowing out a sigh, Garret leaned further back in his chair. "Blamed himself….said it was his fault you were hurt. Kept nearly a twenty-four a day vigil by your bed for a week until it became apparent you weren't going to wake up anytime soon…He was scared out of his wits for you.."

"Blamed himself?"

"Yeah. Said if he hadn't of said those things to you….you would have never been in a coma."

"Oh…" She stood to go.

"Is that it?" Garret asked, surprised at her sudden departure. He imagined they might be mulling over the id and ego of Woody the rest of the afternoon.

"Yeah. You've told me everything I needed to know…" she replied.

"I don't think so." Garret reached in his file drawer behind the bottle of Scotch. "This is the file on your accident. You may want to read through it…."

"Thanks," she said as she headed back to her office. So what he feels for me is pity… she thought as she threw the file on her desk. It's not affection…love…or whatever we had before he was shot…it is pity. He was scared and felt sorry for me. She sat down at her desk and buried her head in her hands. And he still feels sorry for me…that kiss last night…those words…did her really mean them? Or does he still only pity me?

Four hours later, she still wasn't sure. She had combed through her medical records, the forensic files, and the police reports with a fine tooth comb. However, one thing Jordan did know for sure from her past experiences….while the truth may not always set you free, it went a hell of a long way letting you know what exactly was in front of your face….

Jordan stared at herself for a long time in the mirror. So much about her had changed, yet so much remained like it had been two years ago.

And she could say the same thing about Woody. He may not realize it, but a lot of his emotions could be based on some inner pity…some guilt…that he harbored about their relationship…their fights…she didn't want that. If their relationship was going to go forward…given time and a chance….it would have to be because…because…they loved each other. She nearly gulped at the word.

Love.

Not guilt.

Not pity.

Love.

And he had to know this. Making up her mind, she quickly changed into a skirt and blouse she had bought on her shopping trip with Lily. A full, rose colored skirt that hung past her knees and an ivory silk peasant top. Then just as quickly, she gathered her purse and keys, made her way downstairs and found herself knocking on Woody's door. "Hi," she said timidly when he answered his door. "Can I come in?"

"What are you doing here at this hour?" Woody asked as she pushed past him to come into his apartment. He was just getting ready for bed…his shirt open and out of the waistband of his pants.

"I need to talk to you," she replied, standing in the middle of his living room with her hands pressed tightly together. "I really do. Can I? Is it too late?"

"No…not at all." He sat down on his couch and patted the cushion beside him. "Come here…."

"No…please. I'd rather stand…"

And given her agitated state, he didn't argue, just looked at her, raising his eyebrows to prompt her to go on.

"Look….I've talked to Garret today…and looked through the files on my accident…and Woody…Garret said that you felt like my accident was your fault… that you felt guilty for it…and what happened to me."

"I did….do…feel somewhat responsible. If I hadn't said those things to you…"

"Don't. Just …. Don't…."

"Don't?"

"Don't feel guilty about the accident, or sorry for me. The accident was as much my fault as anyone else's. Your anger toward me….I contributed to that, too. I mean three years….I strung you along for three years….then when I don't know if you're going to live or die, I tell you what I feel. No wonder you're mad at me…"

"Jordan…"

But she was on a roll then, and nothing he could say would shut her off. "Don't feel guilty about it…or sorry for me. I'm going to be fine…just fine….I'm getting stronger everyday…I'll move on with my life…I'll be fine…just fine…." She was nearly babbling now…just trying to relieve him of any of the guilt he may still feel … and absolve herself from any lingering pity that may still be there. She didn't see his arm snake out until she felt his fingers curl around her wrist and pull her into his lap.

"Maybe you'll be fine, but I'm nowhere near it," he replied before he pulled her closer and kissed her…not nearly as gentle with her as he had been the night before. He felt her stiffen for a minute, then her body relaxed against his. He softened his lips against hers then, coaxing a more intimate response from her, teasing her mouth open, tracing her lips with his tongue, kissing her until the sound of her soft whimper brought him back to reality. He slowly broke the kiss, but kept his arms firmly around her. "What I feel for you, Jordan Marie Cavanaugh, is not pity…not by any stretch of the imagination. Am I sorry all of this mess happened. Absolutely. Would I change it if I could? In a heartbeat. Would I want to be with you only because I feel sorry for you? Not a chance.

"What I feel for you isn't pity…it isn't guilt….on some level, it isn't even concern. What I feel for you now is the same thing I felt when I first saw you at the bank robbery years ago. Admiration. Respect. Love. And a healthy dose of lust. I love you, Jordan. Please tell me you still love me, too?"

Jordan looked into his blue eyes…once again open and honest with her…He was telling her the truth, and the truth she saw was far more intense than she'd ever imagined. Woody did love her. His attitude tonight had surprised her. In the past, he had never been this take charge with her. But tonight, he not only showed her the depth of his feelings, he had proven to her how far he was willing to go. Held against him like this she knew in no uncertain terms just how serious he was…and strong…

And how much power his love held over her. She willingly settled back down in his arms and let him hold her there…on his lap…on the couch. She never even thought to protest.

She really didn't want to. She simply snuggled closer and was rewarded with another kiss…and his hands trailed down her legs to take off her shoes….making sure she was comfortable before he kissed her again…and again….and again. Finally breathless minutes later, he pulled back. "Jordan….do you…are you able…?"

His kisses had left her breathless…but the events of the day had left her emotionally and physically drained. "Oh, I want to, Farm Boy," she whispered. "But tonight…I'm just exhausted. I still am just so tired by three in the afternoon…all I want to do is sleep…" She gave him a worried look…unsure of how the man in Woody would take that information. "I just want all my strength back before we…I mean…if we take that last step…I want it to be forever."

A slow, Grinch-like smile soon wreathed his face. Putting his lips to her ear, he whispered, "Then I suggest you rest up, Dr. Cavanaugh. Because when I finally take you to bed, I guarantee it will be a long night…"