Chapter 18

Deja-fricking-vu

"I'm a big boy Jordan...but I'll call. Go on," he nodded to the table. "I think you should worry more about Dr. Macy. Make sure he takes a cab. I'll talk to you later."

Jordan waited until she saw Woody's Chevelle pull safely out of the parking lot before she began to work her way back to the table. There was nothing she could do for Garret except pour him in a cab until he admitted to himself he had a problem. Her own were another story. With J.D. gone she couldn't help but ask herself what she wanted in life...more to the fact, where did Woody stand. For now, she had a table full of good friends and a high-visibility closed cased to celebrate.

"Did Woody make it out okay?" Lily asked toying with the straw of her soda. Her question left little doubt in Jordan's mind what...or who...was on the table for conversation while she was up.

"I wrapped his fancy-ass excuse for a car in bubble wrap just make sure." Jordan shot back with a touch of teasing sarcasm. "What do you say we all go back to my place? We can watch old Law and Order reruns and you guys can tell me how much I look like that ADA chick with the tacky wardrobe..."

Nigel unfolded his lanky frame from the cramped booth. "As delightful as that sounds darling, you'll have to count me out," Nigel said stretching the kinks out of his back. "I've got an early shift and you know I need my beauty sleep."

Jordan rolled her eyes but didn't say anything when he leaned down to kiss her cheek and waved good night to everyone. Before Jordan could up the offer and include pizza Lily made her excuses and said she was going to make sure Garret made it home. Bug told her he didn't see anything wrong with the way Claire dressed and said goodnight himself. Suddenly, the table that was so crowded that it verged on uncomfortable was empty. Jordan added her share to the tab and handed it to the waitress. There was nothing left to do but go home to her empty apartment.

Empty was good...

...At least that's what she told herself. On one hand she was glad J.D. was gone...and on the other the idea of going home alone left her feeling cold. As much as she didn't want to admit it...she didn't want to be alone. For the first time in days her El Camino started on the first try.

Jordan ended up driving aimlessly around downtown and found herself driving down a residential street named Tyler. The houses were quiet. Full of people that were tucked in bed for the night...like she should be. She stopped at a red light in front of a house with the name Stoneman on the mailbox. She grinned at plywood yard-card, in the shape of a stock, and planted in the front yard of the little house telling the world that Ben and Lori were the proud parents of a set of twin boys.

"Better them than me..." Jordan murmured to herself. She closed her eyes waiting for the light to change.

The next thing she knew she was seeing flashes of her life. No, not hers, but someone's. Vivid pictures, like a power point presentation...but not as boring...because it was like she was there, touching, tasting, smelling...feeling every moment. For a moment the outside world faded away and she felt a calm, secure lightness.

She saw three stair-stepped dark-haired boys, and finally a blue-eyed little girl...oddly rewarding days of practicing state-of the art but almost barbaric medicine and blissful nights spent in a little house with old-fashioned four o-clocks planted underneath every open window...waking up one Christmas to find a big copper tub with a red bow on it in the middle of her living room and remembering how she spent the rest of Christmas day...palominos and pintos...watching her children grow and have families of their own...growing old with the man she loved beside her.

She snapped out of it when the driver behind her blarred his horn at her and flashing her his middle finger indicating the light had changed.

"Back at you buddy" she cursed under her breath.

Jordan cursed her intermittent power steering and wrenched her El Camino out of the quiet little neighborhood. As she drove she couldn't shake her fantasy. At least that's the only examination she had for it. A fantasy that starred a man that had been in her thoughts too much lately. The whole daydream left her feeling a little shell-shocked and over come with this intense need to see him. Before she could second guess herself she was parked in front of his building...and for some strange reason her throat was so tight she could barely breathe.

"GO AWAY!" Woody yelled at the insistent knocking.

He fought to keep the dream alive but the vision began to die away like old fading photographs, along with the soft warmth of the feather tick and Jordan's arms. He sat up and scrubbed his hands down his face just in time to see John Wayne finish scoping out the room and order a whisky from the good looking barmaid.

Funny, he couldn't have only been out for more than a minute or two and still Woody felt like Rip Van Winkle waking up after twenty years. Armed with his second...or maybe it was his third wind, Woody leaned back to watch John Wayne light one of those skinny little cigars cowboys used to smoke and swore he could taste that bitter cheroot tobacco himself as bits and pieces of his strange dream still floated in and out his brain. The pounding started again, reminding Woody what had woke him up.

"Woody...? Are you alright?"

"Jordan?"

Though the door, Jordan's Boston accent sounded vaguely like his dream Jordan's Texas twang. He turned the TV off and took a deep breath. He had enough problems with a 21st century lady doc. He didn't need to add a 19th century subconscious one too.

"Yes, Jordan," she yelled back. "If you were expecting someone else, too bad. Come on, open the door."

Woody threw open the dead bolt and had to step back when Jordan pushed her way in. Her face was pale, but not overly so. He had been around her enough to know it did lose color that time of night.

"I said I'd call," he shrugged.

"I thought I'd save you the dime..."

He smiled. "A call costs a little more than a dime these days."

"So does gas...but I'm still here." she answered wondering when he started looking like a fallen alter boy who was about to steal the sacramental wine.

"Which begs the question...why?"

Would you believe I pointed my car to go home and it ended up here? "N..nothing. I was just worried, that's all."

Jordan unconsciously rubbed her neck. Woody noticed the thin colorful scarf she was wearing earlier was gone. It was now wrapped carelessly around her hand. The skin looked irritated. Woody asked her about it.

"My throat's a little sore...that's all," she said dropping her hand. "It's probably just the smoke at the restaurant.." Do I smell sawdust?

"The Beef and Brew is smoke-free..." he countered.

Jordan flipped her hand in dismissal. Most the nonchalance was lost as her scarf waved like a warning flag. With a smile she stuffed the irritating cloth in her bag feeling the thin knit snag on the dry skin of knuckles. "I need to stop wearing these things...they're like a noose at times."

Woody blanched but covered his discomfort with a little laugh. "So you drove over here to tell me you have a sore throat..."

"No." she said casually. "Maybe I should've put myself in that cab with Garret. I probably had too much to drink and not enough to eat. I had this weird..." What? Out of body experience? "It was nothing. All I know is by the time I figured it out I shouldn't be behind the wheel, your place was a little closer."

Closer? Pearl Street is four blocks north of the Beef and Brew.

Woody's apartment was a few miles...south. "Weird what?"

Jordan studied the chapped skin on the tops of her hands like she'd never seen it before. "What do you really think about all that reincarnation bull we were talking about tonight?"

Thirty minutes ago Woody would have laughed and told her that it was just that...bull. Now? "I was taught to believe that after we die that's it. We get a one way ticket to heaven or hell. Yet, I can't say I've never felt that sense of deja vu. But do I believe that some housewife that spiked her husband's meatloaf with rat poison was really Anne Boleyn in a past life; I'd have to say I'd rather leave that question for the DA's office."

Jordan's smile was a little too uncomfortable to be sincere. "...Oh. Just checking."

"Hey, I'm still too keyed up to sleep. Would you like to stay for coffee, maybe watch a movie?"

"What movie?"

Woody rubbed his chin. "I think this one is "The Star Packer".

Jordan's eyebrows disappeared under her hairline. "Pornos Wood?"

"No!...No, it's an old John Wayne flick on cable. He's a US Marshal that rides into town and takes the job as the sheriff to run some bad guys out of town. It's a classic..."

Deja-fricking-vu. "Like your car? You know, I think I'd like that."