An Equal Measure

Chapter Six

  News stops for no man, my boss Lou Stryker often said, hence I knew I’d find him in his office at the Freedom Times & Transcript on this sunshiny Saturday morning.

  He sat facing the window overlooking Scholar Bay. I could barely see the top of his bald pate rimming the high back of the chair. Lou did his best thinking looking out at the water. I wondered what problem he was presently contemplating. With Lou, it could be one of a dozen things. He always had something on his mind.

  I cleared my throat.

  He raised his eyes to my reflection in the glass.

  “I hope you’re not here to tell me you need more time off.” He lifted his feet from the window ledge and turned to face me.

  Lou came off sounding like a hard-ass. Truthfully, he was, but he could also be generous and compassionate.

  “Josie Fox here to request immediate reinstatement, sir.” I clicked my heels together and saluted.

  “It’s about damm time,” he said, chomping down on the unlit cigar between his lips.

  “It hasn’t been that long. Only a week. Less than I’d take for a vacation.”

  With a waggle of his forefinger, he called me over.

  I didn’t know what Lou had in mind. Regardless, I walked to the front of his desk and leaned in close to him. He stared at me. I waited. Several seconds passed before he spoke.

  “I hope a man isn’t responsible for the goofy look on your face,” he finally said.

  I frowned.

  “Don’t give me that. I know when you’re hiding something. What’s this talk I’m hearing around the news room?”

  The only gossip about me, which my colleagues would consider remarkable enough to talk about, was my seduction of Jackson Carlisle last evening, but the few people who knew wouldn’t say anything. My sister wouldn’t tell, and neither would Trish. True, I’d only met her yesterday, but since she liked me and worked for Jackson, she’d keep the secret, if not for my sake then Jackson’s. I couldn’t imagine Jackson telling anyone.

  “What talk?”

  “That you willed your sister from a coma.” He looked at me, bringing his bushy eyebrows together. “What did you think I meant?”

  I could see from his expression he’d become suspicious and probably thought I’d lied to him. Once a top-rate reporter, he could still sniff a good story, not that my finding a love interest would be newsworthy.

  “That, of course.” I wanted to look away, but forced myself to hold his gaze.

  A half-minute later, he broke eye contact.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’m happy you’re back,” he said. “One more day and I would’ve flushed your replacement down the toilet. Nut bar. He couldn’t write two words without seeking my approval. Then, once he had it, he not only second-guessed himself, but me. Nut bar.” He grinned. “You don’t suppose it was you he was afraid of?”

  “Little ol’ me?” I laughed and sat in the leather tub chair at the front of Lou’s desk. “I’ll be working from Amy’s,” I said. “She’ll need someone with her after she’s released from the hospital. It’s too long a commute from the Creek to here.”

  “Any idea when that’ll be?”

  “Maybe as soon as the end of the week. Her doctor says she’s making excellent progress.” Given our heated discussions about Amy’s prognosis last week, I couldn’t determine whether Dr. Coville had told me the truth, but I didn’t need to be a neurosurgeon to know Amy was doing marvellously well.

  “She’s a lucky young woman. People have died after sustaining an injury like hers.”

  I nodded, tearing up at the thought of how close I came to losing her.

  Lou stared at me. “She’s fortunate to have you.”

  “Thanks.” I looked over my shoulder. A half-filled newsroom stared at me, the hot topic of the day. If they speculated from my happy demeanour, as did Lou that I’d met a guy, they’d be wrong. Or maybe they weren’t thinking that at all. Maybe they liked the new me, my new look. Maybe I surprised them. Transformations always did.

  Lou frowned again. “Did you get contacts?”

  “I don’t wear glasses, Lou.”

  He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, studying me. “Something’s different.”

  I’d been made over from top to toe, but Lou never had an eye for the ladies. “It’s the same old me.” On the inside, anyway.

  Before I left, I remembered to thank Lou for the flowers the paper sent Amy. I doubted the thought was his, or he’d personally placed the order, of course, but he would have okay-ed the requisition.

  Descending the stairs to the staff parking at the back of the building, I peeked sideways through the balusters on the handrail. Production had ceased and my colleagues were as I anticipated – watching, speculating and undeniably making assumptions about me. Fingers fiddled with lips, pens drilled desktops, hands supported chins and gazes stared, all the while their minds ran unbridled with theories. If they guessed my makeover was to attract a man, they’d be right, but not for the reason they might think. True, I did myself over, but only to capture the interest of Jackson Carlisle, so I could exact revenge on him for his heartless treatment of my sister. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten my facts straight and mistook Jackson for Chris Roberts, the real culprit. Poor unsuspecting Jackson Carlisle had endured humiliation because of it.

  At the exit, I flung the door wide and walked toward my car, squinting in the brilliant sunshine until my eyes adjusted to the light. As I unlocked my car and hopped behind the wheel, my mind skimmed through the errands I needed to run – clothes and laptop from home; nuts for Shamus and Shawn; lock windows and doors; set the alarm; groceries – don’t forget tea, Amy’s almost out; – pick up mail; do laundry; apologize to Jackson Carlisle.

  Crap.

  He deserved an apology for what I’d done to him and sooner rather than later. What had I thought when I put that thing-to-do at the bottom of the list – that it would disappear? Hopeful thinking, perhaps. In this case, procrastination would only prolong my anxiety.

  My three-year-old Mazda started on the third try. Yesterday, it had taken two. Tomorrow, it might not start at all. I added another thing to-do: have new starter installed. I remembered Amy’s inattention to a problem with the steering on her Mach I had almost cost her life. While starter problems weren’t in the same category, not addressing the issue could leave me stranded somewhere dark and dangerous. I didn’t anticipate involvement in anything over the next few weeks that didn’t require a remote and a laptop, but who knew?

  I turned left out of the parking lot, heading downtown, more specifically toward Carlisle Antiques. Last evening when I’d confessed to Trish I’d seduced her boss and left him naked and locked in his office, Trish said Jackson would be tending the shop today, if I wanted to apologize to him then.

  Trish thought highly of Jackson, and said he was a good and decent man, one who wouldn’t treat a woman like Roberts had treated Amy. While she understood my motivation for wanting payback on the man who’d hurt Amy, she wished I’d taken a little time to think before I acted. I wished I had too.

  I caught sight of myself in the rear view. For the most part, I looked the same as I did yesterday. My eyes were less smoky, and my cheeks less rosy, but my teeth still sparkled – and would for awhile – but my lips were the same glossy pink. Jackson should have no problem recognizing me.

  Today, I’d traded my leather ensemble for designer jeans and an off-one-shoulder red blouson top, compliments of Amy. Flat strappy sandals kept my feet firmly on the ground.

  No more stilettos for me.

  Or leather bustiers, either.

  Or seductions...definitely no more seductions.

  Parking in downtown Freedom always proved a trial, thus the reason for me walking where I went. But like yesterday, everything seemed to fall in place. A space opened up in front of the antique store as I approached and my car fit into the spot without extra maneuvering.

  From the street, I looke
d through the windows on either side of the entrance of Jackson’s shop and saw no one inside.

  Kismet.

  Meant to be.

  I took a deep breath and got out of the car, thinking I could still back out. No, I couldn’t. I’d wronged an innocent man. At the least, he deserved my sincere apology.

  I entered the shop, closed the door quietly and waited with my hands clasped together in front of me.

  Jackson came out of his office, the smile on his face quickly turning to a scowl when he recognized me. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  One decibel higher and his voice would be a holler. If I didn’t blurt the apology, I feared another opportunity would never come. I relaxed my pose. “I mistook you for someone else. I’m sorry, Jackson. What I did was inexcusable. If there’s anything I can do to make up for the embarrassment I caused you, I’ll do it.”

  “Will you walk naked down the Avenue?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then there isn’t anything you can do for me.”

  I said again how sorry I was and turned to leave.

  “Did you know I was caught crawling out my office window by a seventy-two-year old woman out for a late night walk with her bull terrier?”

  “No, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” I hung my head and stared at the floor, thinking how upsetting the situation must have been for him.

  “It gets better from there.”

  I looked up at him. “Oh?”

  “The biddy phones the police on her cell. She has them on speed dial, by the way.” He made air quotes, and his voice turned shrill. “Never know when you’re going to come across some pervert, showing off his pecker to all of Freedom, she says.”

  “Oh.” Oh my God. I opened my mouth to apologize again, but clamped my jaws together when he held a finger in the air.

  “There’s more.”

  I was afraid to ask, but did. Jackson continued his story and I listened intently.

  “The cops arrived, drew their guns and ordered me to put my hands in the air. I explained I was simply going to my car for my gym bag, but they didn’t believe me. The old biddy yakked non-stop to the cops about indecent exposure and how the streets of Freedom weren’t safe to walk anymore. The police assessed the situation and obviously determined I was a danger to society. They ordered me to put my hands in the air. Thinking they were prepared to shoot if I didn’t comply, I threw my arms in the air, the hands I might add I’d been using to cover my genitals.” He took a deep, slow breath. “It was then that Skippy, the bull terrier from Hell, made his move.”

  Jackson filled in the gap between us. He brushed his fingers across my cheek and stared into my eyes. “Eight stitches,” he said, “it took to close the wound those sharp little teeth made. The incision burns like acid when I urinate.”

  I backed away from him, covering my mouth with my hand and wishing the floor would open and swallow me. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea ….”

  “How would you?” He took a deep breath. “If I’d waited two more minutes before climbing out the window …” His voice trailed off to nothing before it picked up again.

  “I always wanted children – ”

  “Oh my God. You can’t father children now?”

  He raised his eyebrows a notch and gave me a woebegone look. “Maybe not.”

  I couldn’t stomach a moment more of Jackson’s sufferings. The wrong I’d done him would guilt me forever. I solemnly promised myself that somehow, someday, I’d right the wrong.

  I cleared my throat. “I’ve got to go. I’m sorry. If there’s ever anything I can do for you,” I turned and grabbed hold of the door knob, “let me know.” He called my name. I hesitated, wondering whether to keep running or hear him out. A coward would run.

  “There is something,” he said.

  I turned and looked at him. “Name it.”

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”