When I See You (20 page)

"This might be them," Diana says next to me. "There's a blond little boy holding on to a dark redhead's hand. She has really long hair like you described."

"That's Jordan and her son, Max.

"There's a blond bombshell with them."

"That would be Ashleigh."

"You
know
her?"

"She's Jordan's best friend. We're acquainted." I wince as I admit this.

"Geez, Brock. It's going to be hard to keep all your conquests straight," Diana teases.

"How's Jordan look? What's she wearing?"

"She's wearing a white blouse and skinny black jeans. She's gorgeous. God, she looks just like that actress, the one who was killed. God, what was her name?"

"Laurel Breckinridge. That was her mom," I say with hesitation. "I didn't count on you recognizing Jordan."

"She won an Oscar. She was married to Davis Breckinridge. Who hasn't seen their films? What was it ten years ago they were killed in Europe?"

"Spain."

"Wow. She looks just like her. She's so beautiful," Diana murmurs, sounding impressed. "Didn't Mom go to school with Laurel?"

"Di, she doesn't talk about her parents. Don't bring them up to her."

"I won't."

Out of nowhere, I'm assailed by an intense headache that comes on just like that. I close my eyes and stretch my neck. The blackness greets me as I open my eyes. I start to shake. "Not today," I say.

"Are you all right?" Diana's voice gets closer to my face. "Here, come on, Brock." I feel her pull me along, and she gently pushes me down into a hard-backed chair. "Wait here. I'll get them."

My sister's voice gets farther away. I concentrate on taking deep breaths, while an excruciating headache throbs at my temples. I rub my forehead, trying to massage it away.

"Brock!" Small hands rush at my chest and close around me.

"Max, is that you?"

I feel him reach up and touch my face, then my sunglasses. I can picture this cherub little boy running around in his backyard so clearly. I remember the pure joy displayed across his features that day. I reach for him and scruff his hair. It feels like bristles under my fingers.

"You cut your hair," I murmur.

"Like Daddy's," Max says. "Can you see it?"

"No," I say with a shaky laugh. "But, I can feel it."

"Neat." He gives me a hug. "I miss you, Brock."

His little arms go around my neck again, and I hug him back. Max smells of cookies, shampoo, and crayons.

"I missed you, too, buddy." I land a kiss somewhere on his forehead. "Missed you, too." I bury my chin in his shoulder for a minute. He giggles as I pull back. "What?"

"Can I see your scar?"

"Sure, but later. Okay, Max?"

"Max, you shouldn't ask Lieutenant Wainwright things like that." Jordan's voice trembles from above me. I'm overcome by her amazing perfume as she must slide into the chair next to mine.

"It's
Brock
, Momma. He told me last time it was okay to call him that."

Max is impatient with her, and I hear Jordan openly sigh beside me.

"Right."

"It's okay, Jordan." I turn my head in the direction of where she must be. "You look great. My sister, Diana, here, she told me you look great."

"Brock, I…thank you," she finally whispers.

"Well, Lieutenant Brock Wainwright, you sure know how to keep a girl guessing."

There is no mistaking the provocative intonation in Ashleigh Blondell's voice. I'm stunned to hear it—the attractive sex appeal for me. I''m laughing and flirting back with her before I can stop myself. She plants a kiss on my cheek, taking me by surprise.

Jordan gasps beside me. Her body shifts, and, eventually, she moves away. There's only a faint trace of her perfume as evidence that she was even there. Ashleigh takes her place. Her fingers trail up and down my arm in a familiar pattern. I smile because Ashleigh is so easy to entertain and to read, unlike Jordan Holloway, whose very presence is already achingly evocative.

My headache worsens. This unbelievable pain cuts across my forehead. I have days like this. I was just hoping today wouldn't be one of them. I really wanted to show Jordan that I can be independent. Self sufficient. I'm not sure why this is so important to me, to establish this on day one, but it is. But now, I feel awful. This continual shaking takes over, and I can't stop it.

Diana does her own introductions. Then, my twin sister gets busy discussing the logistics of baggage with Jordan and Ashleigh.

I listen for Max. He's close by, and, after a few minutes, he puts his hand in mine. It's amazing how this little gesture from him affects me. With casual ease, I wipe at my eyes from underneath my dark glasses with my free hand and have to hope that no one sees me do this.

The scent of Jordan's perfume returns. She sits down next to me again and loops her arm through mine.

"Diana and Ashleigh went to go get the luggage. Somebody has to watch Max. Sorry, I didn't mean anything by that. God, I just keep saying the wrong things, doing the wrong things."

"I know you didn't mean anything by it. You never do anything wrong. Ever. Whereas, I?"

I sigh heavily as memories of Ethan rush at me, and then, images of Jordan follow, but the blackness infiltrates. I can't see anything or anyone.

"I'm sorry I ignored your phone calls. I haven't been myself." She sighs.

"The funeral was bad enough, but I had a miscarriage shortly after that, and, well, that kind of took its toll."

"You were pregnant? I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"I'd just written him an email the day before—the day before to tell him. Didn't he talk to you about it?"

I sense her looking at me, searching for answers, and grimace both from the headache and her obvious disappointment when I don't answer right away.

"I don't remember anything about that day," I say slowly. "I didn't know. I'm sorry you lost the baby."

"I wasn't that far along," she says in a low voice. "But, somehow, losing that baby was like losing him all over again. I've spent a lot of time these past months pretending everything was okay, but—"

She stops talking, and I lean toward her, waiting for her to say more.

"But what?" I finally ask.

"I don't know. I guess seeing you makes it all too real. I can't pretend he's in Afghanistan any longer."

The wistfulness in her tone is so strong that I reach out until I find her hand. "I'm sorry." Pain shoots across my forehead.

"Are you okay?" Jordan asks.

"I'm okay. It's just a headache. I get them sometimes."

"Oh. Let me see if I have some Ibuprofen. Can you take that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm blind, Jordan, not an invalid." My face feels hot. "I'm sorry. My head's pounding. I'm not myself."

Max climbs up on my lap again. His little hand pats at my face.

"Brock, are you going to be okay? Mommy said you could take me around to show me the cattle and horses and stuff."

"Sure, buddy. I'm okay."

Jordan's hand closes over my left one. She opens it up and presses three pills into it one at a time. Somehow, I thank her and swallow them down with the bottled water she gives me next. I've reached invalid status in a matter of sixty seconds.

"Jordan, thanks. You don't have to fuss over me."

"You sound like Max," she says with a laugh.

She pats my hand and takes the bottled water from me. I'm helpless and enthralled all at the same time. All the while, my head throbs out of control, but there's this big smile spreading across my face.

"You look good," she says.

Her fingers brush across my arm. It's fleeting; it's there one second and gone in the next. Max leans against my chest, and I stroke his hair. Jordan rests her hand on my arm again. I relish the companionship of both of them, mother and son, for a few minutes. Then, Ashleigh and Diana's distinct voices rise above the chatter of baggage claimants. For once, I take solace in the suspended blackness of it all because I'm not sure I would actually survive seeing Jordan's face right now. My body and mind react to her like a tuning fork. I'm on edge.

Unsettled by this self-revelation that Jordan has this strong of effect on me, even after all this time, I try to conjure up an image of Kate's face, but having never seen it, I'm left with envisioning nothing more than shadows. We've carried on a long-distance relationship, since I returned to Austin. Kate's been to see me a few times, though we have yet to take things further in our relationship, since she, literally and figuratively, straddles the fine line of once being my psychiatrist and still being my superior officer, until I''m officially discharged from the Navy. And, I've been reluctant to sign that paperwork. The documents for my honorable discharge remain in an envelope hidden in my father's desk drawer, while I hold out secret hope that I'll soon see again and be able to return to my unit in Afghanistan.

Jordan's face flashes through my mind. Her amazing smile. The way her silky, dark mahogany hair blew in the wind that day. The way the sunlight lit up her amazing face and made her look like a goddess. I shake my head, trying to clear it, suddenly feeling troubled and conflicted about these two women. Kate and Jordan. Jordan and Kate. In a matter of minutes, I've convinced myself that Jordan's visit is a bad idea. Kate will be here in a few days. I can't see. All these factors add up to a very bad idea. I clench my jaw, frustrated by the easy banter all around me between my sister and these two women that I'm not really a part of. Their chatter makes the dark world I inhabit even more potent.

"You okay?" Diana asks, gripping my elbow and apparently steering me toward the airport entrance.

"Not exactly."

I don't hide my angst from Diana. I might be six minutes younger than her, but we share the common twin bond of knowing what the other is thinking and even feeling.

"They're taking Max to the restroom," Diana says. "It's just you and me for a few minutes." I hear her sigh. "She's beautiful," Diana finally says. "I'm talking about Jordan. Her friend is, too, of course, as you well know." Her sarcasm is fresh and biting; I flinch when she says this. "But Jordan, she takes your breath away. Yet, she hardly seems aware of it, which makes her even more so."

"She is," I manage to say.

My sister must glimpse the torture that I carry at a soul level for Jordan. She gasps beside me.

"God, Brock. She's Ethan's wife. Talk about
complicated
."

I wince at Diana's blunt words. She squeezes my arm tighter in hers.

"There's nothing between Jordan and me," I say evenly. "And, Kate will be here in a day or so." I force myself to smile, though the incongruence of Kate and Jordan meeting one another starts to worry me.

"Kate Richards isn't going to be able to save you from Jordan Holloway, little brother."

My sister's clairvoyance into my predicament is unexplainable. I shake my head in the direction of her voice and almost smile. Diana has made it clear during a few of Kate's brief secret visits over the past three months to Austin that she is less than impressed with my psychiatrist. "Whatever
this Kate
is to you," Diana had said once, "she's not good for you."

Only Diana has met Kate, since I have yet to actually do more than make reference to her with my parents. 'This Kate' is how Diana refers to my supposed girlfriend. I've tried to talk to Diana about Kate, tried to explain my base attraction and need of her, but my sister isn't buying it.

"I really need your help with all of this," I say to her now.

I extend my free arm in a general wave of the surroundings and beseech her to understand my uncertain, complicated version of the world, but Diana just laughs.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," Diana says with sisterly affection. "Look, we can't talk about any of it right now. Here they come. Where's Tate meeting us?"

"Just out at the curb."

"Well, I'll be out Monday night." She pats my right arm and pulls me to my feet. "Mom's putting on dinner and such. You're on your own until then, Cowboy, so try and keep it together; shall we? Here they come."

Jordan laughs at something Max has said. I stop to hear it.

"Leave it to my almost four-year-old to find magic even at the airport," Jordan says. "Restroom entertainment."

"Brock!" Max grabs my hand. "They have this giant hand dryer. You stick your hands in. It dries them real fast."

"That sounds like fun," I say.

Diana's voice drifts away from me. I hear her telling Ashleigh and Jordan about the travel plans to the ranch.

Jordan's perfume drifts closer. In the next moment, she takes my arm. Her soft breath caresses my cheek as she nears my face. "We're just walking through the entryway, following Diana. She told us we're meeting Tate curb side." She hesitates. "Who's Tate?"

"Our first cousin. My best friend, besides Ethan." I shake my head. "Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him."