Jason took Sara to the clinic with him the next afternoon, giving Molly time to prepare for the party. Molly went to work hanging streamers and a huge pink and white sign that had "Happy Birthday" emblazoned on it. The party was set for the kitchen. It would certainly be easier to clean up chocolate fudge cake with bright pink icing from the kitchen floor than the thick living room carpet.
The dishes were placed on top of a white-and-pink paper tablecloth. Various princesses danced across it and the pattern was repeated on the paper plates, cups and napkins. Balloons had been delivered and were arranged around the room. Molly moved the cake in its plastic domed carton, hiding it behind the set of canisters and away from Sara's keen eyes. She was nervous, of all things. Nervous at what Jason would think of what she'd done. Hoping it was good enough.
She couldn't blame him for thinking her cold and uncaring. From the moment she'd refused his ring, she hadn't given him a reason to believe her anything different. He didn't know all the fears, the uncertainty. He knew how lonely she'd been. All her life she'd longed for love. But he didn't know that when it finally had happened, she'd let it swallow her up until she'd almost lost herself. She'd loved him so much that she'd almost let herself be assimilated into his ultimate life-plan. Leaving him had been a rebellious act of desperation to try to stay in one piece. She'd distanced herself from even her sister, the only one who might understand, in order to protect her heart.
Now that she was home, seeing a glimpse of their past, the poignancy of the present and the seriousness of Kim's condition... She knew she'd been utterly wrong. Perhaps not in breaking things off—Jason had been terribly heavy-handed—but she'd been wrong to run away and not deal with him. Wrong to stay far away from Kim and Sara. She was trying hard to make up for it. Today felt like a test, and knowing it was the time to find out if she'd pass or fail made her tummy twine up in tangly knots.
Molly turned her head toward the ceiling as she heard Kim running the bathtub. Why was it so hard to resist the memories? Why couldn't Jason have gotten fat and bald over the years, instead of becoming even more mouth-wateringly handsome? She put her head in her hands. It was time to face the truth, if only to herself. She'd never stopped loving him. It sounded easy, but was so very hard. She loved him for all the things that hadn't changed, yet the reasons she left in the first place were still there. He would still expect her to be the one to do all the giving up. It wasn't that she wasn't willing to sacrifice. She always had been willing to compromise. It was knowing he would expect her to while he kept his life the same, knowing he'd have everything pigeon-holed in a cookie-cutter existence that still had her balking.
For even if she were tempted to leave her life behind and start anew, she knew that if she did, she'd resent him for it sooner or later.
When the phone rang she jumped, then swiveled to grab the cordless unit. Minutes later when she hung up, her hands shook and her stomach quivered.
Her decision had just gotten that much harder.
*
Jason returned with Sara at five o'clock sharp. In his right hand, he held a bag containing a change of clothes, and in the other was a large box wrapped in birthday paper. Sara rang the doorbell and giggled at her mother, who opened the door wearing a pink party hat.
"You take this." He handed Kim the present. "I'm going to get changed first."
"Sure, go ahead. We're just getting supper on."
He changed from his scrubs to jeans and a sweater and ran a hand through his hair.
He didn't have much time left, he knew it. Molly's trip was nearly over and she'd be going back to Calgary unless he took some drastic action. But he wasn't sure what that action should be. He'd tried to talk to her last night about the feelings that had run between them. He'd known she was thinking about what might have been. He'd sensed it, because he'd been feeling it, too. Maybe if they could start talking about how good things had been... But after he'd mentioned it, she'd shut him out completely. Shaking his head, he stuffed his dirty scrubs into the bag. Perhaps he should let her go. Maybe it would be easier for everyone that way. It was certainly long past time.
When he entered the kitchen, Sara was wearing her princess tiara and looking very regal in her favourite pink fairy dress, the layers of tulle puffing about her. Molly was taking a cookie sheet out of the oven and Kim overturned the deep fryer basket, dumping chicken nuggets on to a plate lined with paper towel.
"Hey, girls," he said from the doorway, and Molly spun, her hands still encased in blue oven mitts and holding the pan.
"Feel better?" Kim spoke into the breach of silence that fell. Molly turned to get a spatula for the potato smiley faces, but not before Jason saw the fleeting expression of consternation on her face. She was isolating herself. And somehow he sensed it had nothing to do with last night.
"Need some help?" he offered lightly, taking the plate from Kim. Molly still avoided his glance as she filled a bowl with the potato shapes.
"We're good," Kim answered cryptically, but he could see by her overly bright smile that she knew exactly what was going on and dread curled around, dark and unknown, in his stomach. Something was wrong.
Sara's chatter at the table made up for the lack of conversation, but Jason watched Molly closely. Her mouth was thin and unhappy, her eyes weary. Once she met Kim's eyes and he knew that whatever it was, Molly had confided in her sister. He was clearly out of the loop.
"So what's first, muffin?" He forced his tone to be light and happy for Sara's sake. "Presents or cake?"
Sara pushed away her plate, leaving half a nugget stuck in the circle of ketchup. "Presents! Presents!"
He laughed. "You got it." Disappearing around the corner, he brought out his present to her. She tore at the pink paper, giving an excited squeal as he helped her open the box.
Inside was a puppet show. Taking off the plastic wrap, he showed her how to fold back the sides so it would stand alone, tie back the curtains with Velcro and open the bag of finger puppets inside. Eyes wide, she put on a lion and zebra while he donned a monkey and they acted out, wiggling their fingers and talking in sometimes high, sometimes growly, animal-ish voices.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it! Thanks, Uncle Jason."
"You're welcome. Let's see what your mama got you."
Kim stayed in her seat, her face drawn and pale from the unaccustomed excitement while Jason put away the puppet show and motioned for Molly to help him with the toy kitchen. Together they went to the basement and carried up the assembled toy, the silence between them awkward as Molly avoided his gaze again.
"Shut your eyes," he called from the hall, and they brought it into the kitchen, a huge pink bow on the top of the cupboard.
"Okay, you can open them now."
Sara's eyes were as wide as silver dollars as she stared at the miniature kitchen with her mouth open. It was taller than she was and twice as wide. Sliding off her chair, she reached out a disbelieving hand, touching the sink and the play toaster. "Ohhhh, Mommy," she whispered, and Jason looked over at Kim.
Tears had gathered in her Kim's eyes and she held her fingers over her mouth. Tearing her gaze from her daughter she looked up at Jason and Molly. "Thank you," she whispered as Sara moved from spot to spot, trying it out. "I know what I gave you didn't cover it."
"We wanted to," Molly answered with a warm smile.
"Mommy, it's just what I wanted!" The initial shock had worn off and Sara started to bounce. "Look! A dishwasher and fridge and oven and everything!"
Jason laughed at the girl's ebullience, but laid assessing eyes on Molly. She'd given Kim credit for the gift, even though she had helped pay for it. Her smile broadened at the approval that had come from Kim. His brow wrinkled thoughtfully, listening to Sara's chatter in the background, thanking her aunt for picking it out. Perhaps Molly had changed. Because it was clear to him that she was trying to make up in the only way she knew how for not being here. But soon she'd be gone and he knew that presents didn't make up for a lack of love. He wasn't sure Molly understood that yet.
"Sara, I think your Aunt Molly got you something, too," Kim's voice intruded.
"You did?"
Molly smiled. "Yes, I did. It's in the living room."
Sara rushed out, sliding back over the floor with the pink box in hand. Hurriedly she ripped off the paper and opened up the accessories to her kitchen.
"Oh, thank you, Aunt Molly!" Impulsively Sara rocketed over to give Molly a genuine hug, looping her arms around her aunt's neck and kissing her cheek. Molly's lips were frozen in a permanent smile. "This is the best birthday ever!"
Everyone laughed, contented to watch as Sara donned her apron and set about making everyone tea to go with their birthday cake.
While Kim was putting candles on the cake, Jason rose and laid a hand on Molly's shoulder as they watched Sara playing. He leaned close to her ear. "So Molly saves the day," he murmured, and although he didn't hear it, he sensed the frustrated sigh coming from within her.
"I certainly didn't intend to," she hissed back. "Just save it, okay? I'm not in the mood right now."
He flattened his chin at her sharp reply, taken aback when he'd only been teasing. "I wasn't meaning to be critical," he defended. Whatever was bothering her, it had to be something big to put her this much on edge. "Are you okay?" His voice was low with concern he couldn't help but feel even in his disappointment. He knelt before her chair and looked up at her.
Her eyes were tortured, and he only remembered one other time he'd seen her so inwardly torn up about anything. The day he'd asked her to marry him and she'd refused. His chest was heavy and weighted as tears gleamed in her eyes and she averted her head and tried to blink them away. Her expression, her anguish, reached out to him, so tangible he felt it without even knowing the cause. Yet what could be this big to tear her up inside so very much?
"Honey, what's wrong?" Worry had the endearment slipping out without him even thinking about it.
At that moment, Kim rounded the corner with the cake, candles lit and singing "Happy Birthday". He tore his gaze from Molly's for a moment and when he turned back, she'd replaced her expression with one of bleak enthusiasm for Sara's sake. The little princess perched on her chair while they all sang and she blew out her candles.
He didn't get a chance to talk to Molly again until Kim took a very tired birthday girl upstairs to put on her pajamas. Molly was scraping dishes and loading the dishwasher, the light above the sink the only glow in the dark room. "Molly."
Her hand paused for a moment, then put a teacup in the top rack.
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?"
She sighed, a heavy exhalation of exhaustion and annoyance. "I don't want to do this now, okay? Let it go."
He turned her away from the dishwasher and looked her square in the eye. "If I did something to tick you off, I want to know."
Her smile was grim. "You didn't do anything. You've been great. Even when you were judging me earlier."
He didn't know how to answer, so he kept his lips closed.
"You're not denying it. Well, at least I read that right. Don't worry, Jason. This has nothing to do with you, not directly."
"Then why the tears? Why are you unhappy?" Please, come to me, he thought. It had been hard enough to accept the fact that he still had feelings for her. She had to be the one to turn to him first.
Giggles erupted from upstairs and they both looked at the ceiling. When their gazes met again, Molly set her lips, erecting an icy barrier between them.
"Say goodnight to Sara, Jason. I need to talk to you, but not here, not now. Once the mess is cleaned up, I'll come over. I promise."
"You sound like you're going to your own execution."
She tried a laugh but fell flat. "Maybe. Just go home."
Her tone was so weary, so defeated, he agreed. "I'll wait up for you."
She nodded, and before he could give in and kiss her like he wanted to, he headed for the stairs to say his goodbyes.
*
Jason entered his house, disturbed by how quiet it was after the chaos of next door. This was the time of day he hated the most...coming home to an empty, quiet house. Growing up he'd loved having his family together, laughing, talking, arguing. When his little brother had died, Jason had been eight years old, and suddenly the house had been quiet and solemn all the time. But then Uncle Jim and Aunt Susan and their kids had come to live with them for a while, and the house had seemed to fill with laughter and confusion again. By the time they'd left, his parents had been better able to cope with having only one child, and he'd been close with them always. He missed them still, but understood why they'd chosen to retire somewhere else. They visited when they could, but Jason knew the real way to get them to visit more often was to give them a reason—such as a daughter-in-law and a couple of grandkids.
He slumped on to the sofa. That had been the plan, but he was no closer to it now than he'd been six years ago when Molly had walked out on him.
It had been good before that. Why did she have to come back after all these years and stir up all the old memories? When she'd first arrived, their meetings had been about anger and regret. Somehow now, the anger had gone, and he was reminded of all the reasons he'd loved her to begin with. The more she was here, the more he saw glimpses of the old Molly, the girl he'd loved so much he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.
Seeing the devastated look in her eyes at the party, knowing she would be coming over later, had put him in the frame of mind to be nostalgic. To recall the good times, not the fights or the bad ending. He grabbed a lighter and lit a few candles around the living room, turned on the CD player and, with a long held sigh, dropped to the couch.
He swallowed. He'd loved her completely. Why had he ever thought he could put that aside with anger as his weapon? All he'd done was hide behind the anger, denying the truth and never dealing with it.
Wax was dripping lazily from the candles when he heard the door open then shut again with a quiet click. He didn't even bother to try to hide his melancholy mood. Perhaps now she deserved to know how very deeply she'd hurt him, how much he'd loved her. Perhaps now she needed to see the real results from her walking away. Perhaps it wasn't about who would make the first move forward, but who would make the first one to deal with the fallout of the past.
She stopped in the doorway, and he saw indecision flicker in her eyes. "What are you doing?"
He smiled up at her. "Remembering."
She took a few more steps in. "Remembering what?"
"The way we used to love each other."
Molly felt her heart give two solid thumps and her hands began to shake. Not now. This was going to be hard enough without him getting all sentimental on her. Someone here had to keep a clear and unemotional head. She'd been hoping it wouldn't have to be her.
"That was a long time ago," she chided.
But he patted the cushion beside him. "Come, sit," he suggested gently.
Impatience and anger flared up seemingly out of nowhere. Sweet talking was not what she needed right now. What she needed was to stop tip-toeing around the past, stop being stupidly emotional and just deal.
"The people we were then thought they could have everything. We both know that life isn't like that." Her tone was cold and flat as she systematically started to shut down her feelings.
Molly couldn't read his expression at her words and avoided looking into his eyes. She knew if she got caught up in the moment, she'd lose her nerve to say what she'd come to say.
"I came to tell you I'm leaving tomorrow," Molly said abruptly.
"Tomorrow?" The hands that had been calm suddenly raked through his hair. "But you weren't supposed to leave until Sunday."
"Do three more days make that much difference?" She looked up at him then and put her hands in her pockets to keep from reaching out and smoothing his hair away from his face. "I got called back now. I have to go."
"Your job? This is about work?"
She missed the threatening note in his question. Fact was, she was undeniably angry at the ultimatum her boss had delivered this afternoon. Sure, she'd been distracted while here and she hadn't exactly kept up with her files. She knew that, but she had planned to put in extra time once she got back to Calgary, getting things in order so there'd be less fuss when she did something she never thought she'd do. Put in her notice. After all, time was all she was going to have, wasn't it? But instead she'd gotten the call today, reaming her out for neglecting an important client, demanding she return immediately or face consequences. Hearing her boss's voice on the phone, making demands, told her she was making the right choice in walking away. She wanted more, something better where she could be happy and make a difference. Kim was home and doing well. Jason was next door if they needed anything. Why did leaving feel so very wrong? Why did she resent it so much?
The answer came swiftly—because once again, the choice was being taken out of her hands.
"I let things slide. I have to go make things right." She ached to tell him she'd be returning to Fredericton, but something in his closed expression held her back. She got the slippery feeling he was judging her again and making this decision had been hard enough without him weighing in on it.
To her surprise, Jason snorted. "Nice boss. Doesn't even give you three weeks' vacation."
"Look," she defended, "I told them I'd work from here. But I got behind, didn't follow through. I have to go back to finish what I started."
Silence. Her last sentence echoed through the room, and mingled with the soft sounds coming from the stereo. In that heavy silence, they both heard the truth—she had never been too concerned with going back and making things right before.
But she was here, now, to change that. Things needed to be said before she left. Things left far too long to fester and hurt. At least this time when she left he'd know exactly why.
"Leaving again. So do you plan on buying your sister's and niece's affection every now and then to salve your conscience?" His words came out in bitter staccato.
"You know that's not what I did. You can't buy someone's love. I was trying to help, to make up for the times I haven't been here. They both deserve that."
That crease appeared between his brows again. "The Molly that arrived here three weeks ago would have thrown her money around for effect."
She eyed him curiously. "She probably would have. But I'm not the same person I was when I arrived. Thank goodness."
She took a step forward, stopping before she got close enough to touch him. "I didn't say goodbye to you before, Jason, and...and I'm sorry. But I'm saying it this time."
She perched on the arm of a chair, stared into the flickering flames of the gas fireplace. He'd known she was coming over and he'd deliberately set up the scene with candles and music. But the truth was they were not the same people they'd been. A romantic setting wouldn't change all there was—and wasn't—between them. Again she questioned her decision to come back here permanently. Would it be too hard with Jason as a constant reminder? Would it keep them from moving on after all? Would it be better to find a whole new place for a new beginning?
"Why didn't you say goodbye? Why did you leave the way you did?"
The answer was easy enough, and now was the time for truth. "Because I was angry. Because I still loved you and I felt like I'd be beating my head against a brick wall trying to make you understand how I felt. And because..." Her throat closed against the threat of tears. The years they'd shared deserved the truth, however late it was in coming. "Because I was afraid you'd be able to convince me to stay."
His gaze snapped to hers in surprise. She wished he would stop looking at her that way. He had the most beautiful, penetrating eyes of any man she'd ever known, with the uncanny ability to make her feel as if he could see right into her soul. Right now she did not want him to see that deeply inside her.
"I would have had that power?"
She took a breath. "Yeah. You would have. And I couldn't let that happen, because I knew—I know—that I would have ended up hating you for it in the end."
"I loved you."
"I know you did. That's why it hurt so much, don't you see?" She rose from the chair and went to the fireplace, resting her hands on the mantle. "I knew that you loved me, and even when I felt I was right making the decision I did, I still felt I was wrong for hurting you. I couldn't handle it, so I left. I was determined to build the life I wanted. To show you I'd been right."
"But..."
She turned, tears glimmering on her lashes. "But being right cost me. I didn't realize until lately how very much I'd given up by leaving."
"What did you give up, Molly?" His voice came across the room huskily.
Her gaze delved deeply into his.
"Everything," she admitted.
The room fell quiet as the music stopped, then with a whirring sound switched to the next CD. When the piano notes started, Molly's heart leapt, constricted and cracked, and the tears on her lashes spilled on to her cheeks.
Jason stood, took agonizingly slow steps to her as the introduction ended and the vocals began to their song. He reached out and took her hand, saying softly, "Dance with me."
Helpless to refuse, she curled her fingers in his and let him draw her close as their feet made tiny circles to the music. The words, which years ago had seemed so different, now seemed crafted to their own unique, twisted situation, each syllable branding a bit more pain on Molly's already hurting heart. His body fit against hers perfectly, even after all these years. He pulled her closer, closer, so close she could feel his heart beating against her.
"Are you listening, Molly?"
She swallowed. She had no idea how many times they'd danced to this song in years past, but never had it had such a poignant meaning as now. Now it was about finding love again after years apart, of how empty life had been until they'd found each other again, the singer was begging her to stay. Did Jason want her still? Did he want her to stay with him, to give their love another chance?
"I'm listening," she whispered as his hand trailed intimately down her back, sliding over her hip and making every nerve ending in her body stand to order.
"Then tell me," he murmured, his voice soft but tight with emotion.
"I can't," she whispered painfully.
His lips nuzzled at her ear and she forgot the plane ticket in her purse, forgot she was supposed to be saying goodbye, and simply leaned her head back and met his lips with hers. Of all the kisses they'd shared since she'd returned, this one undid her. This one, a kiss that was a hello, a reunion, an acknowledgement. Somehow, in some way they'd both admitted that their love had never died, and this was the ultimate manifestation of those feelings. Molly couldn't say the words; she was too afraid. But she poured all her emotions into that kiss—her regret, her sadness, her love.
The song ended but the kiss lingered, turning into a series of nips and brief contacts that trailed down her neck. "Stay," he whispered against the column of her throat. "Stay with me tonight."
Could she? Could she stay, knowing she would be leaving tomorrow?
It was impossible to be rational when his fingers were caressing the small of her back. "That probably wouldn't be a good idea."
"Probably not." He whispered the words next to her ear. "But life is full of bad ideas."
One last chance. This would be the one and only time she'd have to touch him, love him the way she'd missed loving him. This could be the sweet goodbye they'd missed.
Or it could break her heart.
He straightened, put a finger under her chin and lifted it until she looked him in the eyes. "I've asked you to stay. I want to make love to you. But the decision is yours, Molly."
She lifted a shaky hand to his cheek, smiled a wobbly smile.
"Love me one last time, Jason."
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