“Yep,” Joe said at length. “She still has all her parts.”
Jack laughed. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“Absolutely.”
Her oldest brother kissed her forehead. “It’s good to see you, Junie. You had us worried shitless.”
“Don’t call me that.”
It was so good to see some things stayed the same, no matter how much everything else changed. They enjoyed a meal in her mother’s kitchen, catching up and laughing. Her mother focused on why her brothers hadn’t married yet.
“It’s not like you aren’t settled in your careers,” Melva said, gesturing with her fork. “And I want grandchildren while I’m still young enough to enjoy them.”
Jack choked on his antipasto. “Maybe you could let me find the right woman before you mentally impregnate her, Ma?”
Gazing around the table, Juneau knew she should be totally happy right now. No question. She’d survived an insane, incredible situation, but it was all over. By now, she ought to be thinking about her next job, checking lists online, and finding a new adventure. Instead, she felt stuck in a holding pattern, unable to make a choice.
She sat quiet while the others talked, and after dinner, she washed up the dishes, then grabbed a sweatshirt out of the hall closet and went out to the porch to sit on the swing. Over the years, she’d done a lot of thinking—and brooding—here. It wasn’t quite warm enough, but she needed the push and sway to align her thoughts.
Joe followed her out eventually. “Mind if I sit?”
“Would it stop you if I did?” She grinned up at him.
“Nuh-uh. You have that I need to talk look.”
“Maybe I do.” She drew one knee up and wrapped her arms around it while still gently nudging the swing with the other. “I met a guy in Ecuador. In fact, he’s the only reason I’m alive.”
“Wow. That’s major.” Sometimes Joe still sounded like he was sixteen, and that always made her smile. But these days, he had a perspicacity he’d lacked in his younger years. “So you’re into him, but you’re wondering if the hero factor’s coloring your opinion.”
“Exactly. He was the one who suggested we cool it for a while. Give us time to get perspective and see how we feel down the line.”
“Sounds like he has his head on right. I appreciate that he didn’t take advantage.” Her brother mock-scowled. “He didn’t, did he?”
She laughed softly. “None of your business.”
“Do I have to kill him?”
“Please. I’m thirty-three, Joe. Your list would be pretty long, at this point.”
“I so don’t need to hear that.” He ruffled her hair gently. “What are you going to do, then?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Later that night, she went up to her room and flicked on the ancient computer. It still ran, but her mother only had dial-up; she used email, but she didn’t figure the Internet machine was good for anything else. Instead of checking her messages, Juneau went to the website Jack had designed for her and scrolled through the old picture galleries. These shots shared one commonality: they featured her and a group of strangers with whom she’d lost contact as soon as she left the country. She didn’t have many close friends, just a series of friendly acquaintances. Nobody stayed in her life because she didn’t let them. She always had to keep moving.
So was it at all possible that she wanted to keep the one man who’d told her to walk away? Maybe it was just sheer mental perversity making her think so. As requested, she’d give it time. It couldn’t be love, anyway; she’d decided long ago she just wasn’t wired to stay with one man.
But how will you know if you never try?
By day eight, she had to admit it: Silas was a hard man to forget.
No matter how many days passed, she couldn’t forget him. No amount of conversation made her stop longing to hear him laugh again. Nothing she did drove him out of her mind. Juneau woke with the sound of his voice in her head and the memory of his touch lingering on her skin. She played the Blink 182 song “I Miss You” repeatedly, until her mother asked her what the heck was wrong.
So at the end of the month, she emailed him.
FIFTEEN
It was done, then.
It was just as well Silas had work with Tanager; otherwise he would’ve had too much time to focus on the pain. He missed Juneau more than he could’ve imagined. Some bonds couldn’t be broken, but maybe she was better off without him. He checked his email obsessively. The month passed in interminable agony, and on that last day, he woke up feeling dark as a moonless night.
Tanager was gone from their shared flat. She’d be headed to Chicago now. To find Finch and make sure he put Silas from Juneau’s mind. She’d made her choice and so couldn’t be trusted with their secrets. Soon she would recall nothing of their time together, but at least he would remember that he’d had something beautiful for a little while.
His partner’s absence meant they wouldn’t be working today. In the last month, he’d learned how to manage the pain associated with his ability with a judicious combination of meditation and meds, but he didn’t mind the break. It gave him time to make peace with the inevitable. Silas couldn’t honestly say he was surprised. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from checking the account he’d set up just for Juneau one last time.
And there it was in black and white. Hope. Salvation. The potential for all future joy.
Silas, I can’t get you out of my head. I don’t know if you’re the one, but I want to find out. I can’t do that if I’m not with you. Call me. J.
He started to dial her number, and then he paused with his fingers on the dial. Shit. Fuck. He had to stop Tanager. With trembling hands, he punched in her cell, but it went to voice mail. She might already have some guy in the air in his personal plane. For obvious reasons, Tan never flew commercial.
He sat down at the computer, calling to book tickets while he worked online; successful multitasking had never mattered so much. If the number’s listed, yeah. Here we go. Silas scrawled the address. Thanks, reverse lookup. Then he did try to call Juneau, intending to tell her to stay the hell away from Tanager, but she didn’t answer. Fuck. Maybe it’s already too late.