The Redemption Of Lillie Rourke
Right now, though, Lillie wouldn’t have complained if Jase was a bit less competent.
In all fairness, Jase wasn’t responsible for how bleak she felt. Her addiction was. One of the toughest things about coming home had been seeing and hearing for herself that everything they’d said at Rising Sun had been true: you may never win back their trust, so remember, you’re doing this for yourself. Lillie felt strong enough to cope with that for now, but what if her loved ones felt the same way in six months or a year? Would she be strong enough then?
“Aw, quit looking so glum, Lill. I watched you tough it out through those awful exercises during physical therapy. And you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t toughed out rehab, too. You’ve got that going for you, plus, you’re stubborn. More stubborn than anyone I know. If you really want to beat this thing—permanently this time—you will.”
If? Why the extra emphasis on the word?
“So how long have you and Whitney been dating?” Lillie hoped he wouldn’t tell her there was more to the relationship than that.
“Not long. Couple months, give or take.”
Her dad implied that Jase had seen other women, too, since their breakup. Any rational person would agree that he had every right to move on. At the moment, Lillie wasn’t feeling very rational.
She started to ask how they’d met when he stopped her with “I, uh, I guess I’d better head out. Need to get dog food, pick up some groceries and stuff.”
“When did you get a dog? What breed is it?”
This time his quiet laughter sounded halfway sincere. “It isn’t mine, it’s Mom’s. He’s a mutt. German shepherd–Doberman–Irish setter mix, near as the vet can tell. Good-lookin’ pup, but big. And sheds enough to make a whole other dog. Ronald showed up at her door one day, and stayed.”
Lillie smiled at that. “Ronald, huh?” She remembered the full-color autographed photo of the former president on Colette’s office wall, right beside the letter he’d dictated, detailing the country’s appreciation for Jase’s dad’s years of military service.
Jase only nodded.
“I’m sure she’s grateful for the companionship, especially since you and Drew and Dora travel so much.”
A look of disbelief crossed his face, and he took a half step back.
“I didn’t mean for that to sound like I think you aren’t doing enough for Colette. I’m sure you’re there every chance you get. Drew and Dora, too. I haven’t exactly earned any daughter-of-the-year points, so I have no room to talk.”
Jase’s eyes narrowed just enough to tell her he wasn’t sure whether to believe her.
“Anyway,” he said, replacing his cap, “I’m outta here. It’s good to see you’re doing well, Lill.”
“Good to see you, too, Jase.” Saying his name brought forth the memory of Whitney, calling him Jason. “You are still going by Jase, right?”
“Of course. You know how I feel about being called Jason.”
“I only asked because the other day, Whitney—”
The muscles in his jaw tensed. “Yeah, she’s the only person who calls me that. I’ve kinda learned to live with it.”
He sounded as annoyed as he looked. Difficult as it was to take Whitney’s side, Lillie said, “She probably just wants to make sure everyone knows that her relationship with you is different—more special—than any other.”
“I guess that might explain it.”
Although he followed up with a dry chuckle, Lillie sensed that he wasn’t happy. She tried a different tack.
“Have you told her that you prefer Jase?”
“Not in so many words.” Jase removed the cap again, ran a hand through his dark hair. “Well, I have to go.”
A strange twinge pinched at her heart: What if...what if he’d stopped by to tell her he’d proposed to Whitney, but decided she wasn’t strong enough yet to hear the news?
“Didn’t mean to take you away from your work.”
“You didn’t.”
Lillie held her breath, hoping he’d say, When can I see you again? or better still, I’ve missed you, Lill. He nodded and made a thin line of his mouth. His “I don’t know what to say, so I won’t say anything” face, she remembered. “You’re welcome here anytime, Jase.”
Just then, his cell phone dinged. A worry line creased his forehead as he read the caller ID screen. Whitney. Lillie would have bet her wheelbarrow on it.
Jase slid wraparound sunglasses from his shirt pocket.
“See you around, Lill,” he said, and made his way down the driveway.
It wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear, but it beat “goodbye.”
Lillie faced the rows of marigolds and zinnias she’d planted in front of the roses. Funny, but they looked even brighter through the sheen of tears.
The counselors had cautioned her against expecting anything more than an arm’s-length friendship with Jase, and yet, somewhere deep in her heart, she’d hidden a glimmer of hope that when he realized how much she’d changed...
“Oh my, Lillie,” her mother said, leaning over the railing. “You’ve done a beautiful job! Are you almost finished?”
Turning so her mom wouldn’t see her tears, Lillie said, “I just need to give everything a good soaking and put away the tools.”
“Well, well, well. Will you look at this,” Liam said, coming to stand beside Amelia. “Looks like a professional landscaper did the work.”
Lillie couldn’t thank him for the compliment, because a sob ached in her throat.
“Hot dogs and hamburgers are ready, kitten, and your mom made her famous potato salad.”
Her mother took a step forward. “Are you all right, honey?”
“Just a little tired. Not used to being on my hands and knees,” she croaked out. It was only a half lie. The ache in her leg—so familiar since her accident—had flared up during all the yardwork. She’d be limping tomorrow.
“You must be famished. A good thing, because Sam is about to take the meat off the grill.”
“Are we eating out back?”
Liam said, “Yup. Red-checkered tablecloth, the whole nine yards.” Her dad started down the steps. “Let me help you clean up.”
Lillie twisted the hose nozzle and gasped when water spritzed the upper half of her body.
Another good thing, as it turned out, because the droplets camouflaged her tears.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I WISH YOU didn’t have to go.” Whitney leaned her head on his shoulder. “I was so looking forward to introducing you to the new partner.”
Jase grabbed a handful of popcorn and stared at the preview on the movie screen. “He’ll be with the firm for years. I’m sure we’ll get together some other time.”
She snuggled closer. “Are you sure you can’t get out of it? Just this once?”
“I think I know why your parents spoiled you.”
“I’m not spoiled.”
Said the girl who drove a Mercedes at sixteen. Attended Vanderbilt, despite so-so grades. Owned a town house in an upscale neighborhood—a graduation gift from her folks.
“You’re right. Sorry,” Jase said, meaning it. Since signing on with the law firm, Whitney had earned everything she called hers.
“Because I’d hate to think you feel that way about me.”
Even pouting, Jase thought, she was a knockout. Not as pretty as Lillie, but gorgeous nonetheless.
“Sorry,” he said again. Not because he’d almost called her a nag, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about Lillie, or comparing her to Whitney. It wasn’t fair to either woman.
Jase needed space, and time to clear his head. Standing in the aisle beside his seat, he leaned in to say, “How about some candy? I’m in the mood for Milk Duds.”
“The lines will be long, Jason. I hate to ask you to put yourself through that.”
“You aren’t asking. I offered, remember? So what’ll it be? Peanut butter cups? Chocolate-covered raisins?”
“How about a salted pretzel?”
Jase winked and made the thumbs-up sign. “Consider it done.”
Whitney had been right; the lines were twenty deep at every cash register. Most nights, he would have walked right back into the theater. Tonight, he considered it therapy. He had to figure out exactly how he felt about Lillie. He knew he still loved her. He’d probably always love her. Enough to set aside his suspicion? Therein, as the bard might have said, lies the rub.
A family of four left the counter, and Jase moved forward a few spaces.
A new thought occurred to him. What if part of her therapy was to make amends and repayments...and then sever ties with everyone who’d been a part of her life as an addict?
The kid at the counter said, “Can I help you, sir?” And from the look on his face—and the faces of the people to his right and left—Jase realized the boy had said it more than once.
“Salted pretzel, please. And some of those.” He pointed, and the cashier grabbed a yellow box. “Two waters, too.”
He paid for his order and somehow managed to make it back to the theater without dropping anything. Halfway between the entrance and their seats, Jase wondered if Whitney liked mustard on her pretzel. If she does, his Lillie-addled brain answered, she’ll have to eat this one plain.
By the time he reached her, the movie’s opening credits filled the screen. Fortunately, this was a screening of a classic movie he’d seen before, so if Whitney wanted to talk about it during the ride to her place, he wouldn’t sound like a complete idiot.
Even though you are a complete idiot.
The whole what-if question echoed in his head, even as the story unfolded, even as he took Whitney’s elbow and led her across the parking lot, even as he helped her into the cab of his pickup. It would solve all of his problems if Lillie’s counselors had told her to leave him in the dust.
Right?
“You’re awfully quiet,” Whitney said. “Thinking about your trip to Florida?”
Jase nodded as he backed out of the parking space.
“Have you packed?”
“Not yet.”
“You’ll get it done in no time. As many times as you’ve made this trip, I’ll bet you can prepare for it in your sleep. Besides, you’ll only be gone for a few days.”
“I guess.” Maybe he needed to have a talk with Lillie, face-to-face, find out where she stood on the subject of them.
“You’re not angry with me are you, for making you take me out tonight, when you could have been home, getting things ready?”
“No, Whitney. I’m not angry. And you didn’t make me take you out tonight. I’m here willingly.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Why couldn’t she be a little more like Lillie, comfortable with companionable silences?
Whitney fiddled with the radio, stopping when a rap song filled the cab. If it had been Lillie sitting over there, he’d be listening to country right now. Oldies but goodies. Jazz or blues. Anything but rap. Again, a familiar annoyance simmered in his gut. He wasn’t irritated with Whitney or Lillie. He was mad at himself for behaving like a spineless goofball, incapable of making up his mind or controlling his emotions.
Reaching across the console, he grasped Whitney’s hand. “I know I wasn’t the best company tonight, and when I get back, you can arrange dinner with the new partner and his wife. Someplace nice. My treat.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “Sound good?”
She returned the squeeze. “I can’t very well turn down a deal like that, can I?” Grinning, she added, “Not without sounding spoiled, anyway.”
“Very funny,” he said, winking again.
It wasn’t in her wheelhouse to crack jokes, and he appreciated her effort to lighten the mood.
“Did the show send your schedule?”
The producers from the shopping network had always made sure he knew well in advance what time he’d be on-air. And Whitney was aware of this, too.
“Yup.”
“When you get a minute, will you take a screenshot of it, so I’ll know when it’s okay to call? I’d hate to interrupt you while you’re in the middle of describing one of your mom’s crafts.”
During his trip a few weeks earlier, she’d called and texted a dozen times a day. Called at night, too. And once, his cell phone had buzzed while he was on-air during the Father’s Day specials—loudly enough that the mic picked it up. His own fault. He should have left it in the dressing room.
“’Course.”
“You’ll call every day?”
“Sure.”
An odd thought popped into his head. She hadn’t been clingy or possessive before meeting Lillie. She’d even started referring to his past as “the Lillie years.” He’d assure her that things had ended between him and Lillie a long time ago...except, he wasn’t sure that was the truth. Or that he wanted it to be the truth.
“Good. Because I’ll miss you.”
“Me, too.”
“I don’t know why, but it always seems you’re gone for weeks, instead of a few days.”
Always? He’d gone to Florida only two other times since they’d met. But he’d been quiet and standoffish all night. What could it hurt to say something nice?
“Since you’re like a human World Clock, maybe you can be my wake-up call every morning.”
“Give me a minute to collect myself,” she said. “I don’t want to appear overeager. What would my fellow feminists say if they heard me gushing like a schoolgirl at the chance to rouse her boyfriend while he’s on a business trip?”
Boyfriend. Jase didn’t know how he felt about that.
“Fellow feminists,” he said. “Is that an oxymoron?”
She laughed. His mother may just have been right when she’d said that Whitney could be good for him...if he’d let her.
Jase nodded and smiled, smiled and nodded as she talked about the movie’s plot, the weather, the legal brief she needed to finesse for a pretrial hearing in the morning.
“Are you sure you can’t come in?” she asked, leaning into him.
“I’m sure. I need to get home, throw a few things in a bag. Besides, you have that brief to work on.”
Hands on his shoulders, Whitney kissed him, slowly, longingly. He waited for the weak-in-the-knees, heart-pounding reaction his mother had described. When it didn’t happen, Jase blamed himself. Maybe if he put a little more into it...
Still nothing.
“Drive safely,” she said when it ended, “and pack some immune boosters. You don’t want to catch a cold, breathing that recirculated air on the plane. Not a good idea to drink coffee or tea, or let the flight attendant put ice in your drink. I read an article that said there are swarms of bacteria in the water system and the ice maker.”
Jase chuckled quietly. “Swarms, huh?”
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