Never Tomorrow Read online

  He sensed her hesitation and persisted. “I hope you’ll say yes. I have something important I’d like to discuss.”

  * * *

  Jordan sounded troubled, which was the only reason Whitney finally agreed. “I can meet you at the Chinese restaurant on the square at 12:30 p.m.” She bit her lip. Was she being foolish?

  Jordan arrived exactly on time.

  Good start, Whitney noted.

  After the waitress left with their order, Jordan launched into small talk nonstop for several minutes.

  Whatever important topic he wanted to share, Whitney wasn’t going to help. He’d have to initiate that conversation. The whole scene seemed déjà vu to her.

  After ten minutes she berated herself for rearranging her schedule just to discuss his upcoming tennis tournament. Why had she come? To admire his stiffly starched shirt and blue striped tie. Yes, he was handsome, but so was a championship horse.

  Were Jordan’s good looks a handicap for him? Perhaps people trusted him and were attracted to him too easily. Certainly she’d been enticed by his charming smile and attentive ways. She was more than a little annoyed with herself.

  Halfway through the Ho Ding luncheon special of chicken chow mien with a cup of egg drop soup and egg roll, Jordan sat back, took a sip of his tea, and swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple moved visibly. “I need to ask you to forgive me for my behavior the other night, you know, for leaving so abruptly.”

  “I’m not sure an apology is necessary.”

  “Whitney, I know it is. I’m going to be honest with you. Intimacy is hard for me. I’ve always been in total charge of my emotions. When I was growing up, my aunt and uncle modeled controlling feelings, and I did, mostly by stuffing them. I’m trying not to do that anymore. At least, I don’t want to.”

  Whitney stared at him. Where was this going?

  “You nailed it when you implied I was egocentric. You made me think. I admit my motives are more crass than they should be.”

  Whitney couldn’t believe he was saying this. “You don’t need to explain yourself, Jordan. I’m not judging you, and it wasn’t my intention to offend you with my views.”

  “I know that. Please let me finish. I have to get this out. I tend to be impulsive. I react to the moment—okay, I’m superficial too. You’re different from other women I’ve dated. You have me thinking about subjects new to me—values, long term goals.”

  Whitney folded her hands together on the tabletop and waited. Lord, I went out with this man only once. This must be Your work.

  Jordan looked steadily into her eyes. “I enjoy your company. I know I want to see more of you. I promise, no more running off on you. That’s all I know at this point, okay?”

  Whitney nodded. “Relationships only work if people are totally honest, so I will be too. I appreciate that you’ve shared this. I’m open to seeing what the future holds.”

  More than anything, she was intrigued by this quixotic man sitting across from her. From total rejection to self-revelation?

  Dating Jordan might be a pleasant teeter-totter ride then falling off with a thud. But Lord, You may have placed him in my life for a purpose.

  “I need to go out of town on business for a few days. I leave this afternoon. How about having dinner the Thursday I return?”

  Whitney shook her head. “Sorry, Thursday is the night I work late.”

  Jordan looked away.

  Whitney smiled. “Friday could work though.”

  “Great.” He beamed.

  Whitney checked her watch and stood up. “I’ve got to run. Lingering lunches don’t fit an editor’s lifestyle.” She smiled warmly.

  “I’ll email the details,” Jordan called after her as she hurried to the door.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Suzanne Oleston glanced up from her desk as a young couple stopped outside her storefront window to check her travel agency’s cruise line display. She tapped redial for the third time, trying to reach Dr. Sarah Stevens.

  This news couldn’t wait. She’d already left a message for Dr. Karen Trindle, who couldn’t be interrupted while leading her recovery group. Suzanne tapped her fingernails on her desk in tune with the busy signal. That was the problem with having professional counselors for clients and friends. Their lines were either busy or they were with clients and couldn’t be disturbed.

  “No thanks, this is personal. I don’t want her voice mail,” Suzanne told the office gal who finally answered. “I’ll catch Dr. Stevens at home later. I have the number.”

  Suzanne took a deep breath as her primary care physician had suggested she do whenever her Type A personality chafed at waiting. Tension issues were why she never got around to dealing with her impulsive habits of gulping a Coke or reaching for chocolate. Often complimented for being a vivacious, attractive woman, she freely admitted to those close to her she didn’t mind being a tad overweight. As long as she dressed with verve and style, she figured no one noticed her extra pounds. Her long brown curly hair draped on her shoulders when it wasn’t dramatically upswept atop her head.

  She surveyed the headquarters of her alter ego, the Suzanne Oleston Travel Agency, and relaxed her posture. She’d expanded the business from one main office to three branches and now had a staff of nine and handled more travel than all her local competitors combined. An organizer and a thrifty shopper by nature, she’d put her talents to good use putting together package deals and passing on the benefits to clients like Dr. Karen and Dr. Sarah.

  Suzanne realized she’d become a sought-after travel agent because she had that indispensable quality—discretion. The embarrassing stories she heard about her clients she confided only in her elderly mom, who lived with her and was her best friend. “I write the tickets,” she’d told her Mom, who wasn’t a chatterer. “I know which men travel with a female business trip companion, which ones book one compartment on a cruise instead of two. If I wanted a career in blackmail, I could either be a millionaire or die young.”

  The first time she’d joked like this, her silver-haired mom’s eyes registered shock. “Don’t say such things, darling.”

  Suzanne laughed. “It’s true. Not to worry, though.”

  She’d never married, perhaps because some of her client’s flexible morals disillusioned her. Why give your heart to a man to break? She’d had numerous married business men try to persuade her to accompany them to conventions. She doubted their intentions were merely generous gestures. Plus, somewhere she’d heard the saying, “Who needs a slouch on the couch?” It had stuck in her mind.

  Sarah and Karen were Service League friends who occasionally traveled with her. Sarah’s husband was a pilot, so when he was in town, he wanted to stay put. Suzanne understood that feeling because she did her fair share of traveling, and like Dorothy in Oz often said, “There’s no place like home.”

  But she saw no excuse for Karen Trindle’s husband, Charles, a stay-at-home guy who’d retired early, to forego trips. Money wasn’t an issue. Karen claimed he didn’t enjoy travel, but get him in a fishing boat on a lake or his country club golf course and he was happy. She’d complain about him whenever the subject came up but didn’t mind traveling on her own.

  Sarah Stevens and Karen Trindle used Suzanne’s services often. Most therapists needed frequent getaways to keep them balanced. Of course, Sarah flew free because her husband was a pilot, but Suzanne made a commission on her hotel bookings and car rentals. Often they escaped for three days at a spa close by, but occasionally, remote locations enticed.

  Last week Karen had asked Suzanne to check out Ecuador for her. “I have a client who returned from Quito raving about its charm and made it sound wonderful. Look into a trip for me next spring, please.”

  “Sure. Mind if l come along? I’ve never been.”

  “That’d be great if you can make it.”

  Suzanne had a different trip in mind now for Sarah and Karen.

  Promptly at nine she started a conference call joining the three of them on her
phone. It would be easier to give her spiel once.

  She reached Karen first. Her voice sounded sleepy.

  “Did I wake you?” Suzanne asked.

  “It’s okay. I was dozing in my recliner. No problem. I need to get to bed or my back will be in agony tomorrow. What’s up?”

  “Hold on a minute,” Suzanne said. “I’m getting Sarah on the line too.”

  Seconds later Sarah’s voice came on. “Hello...”

  Suzanne wasted no time. “Here’s the scoop. I have a great travel deal for you lucky gals—a dream trip—three days in the UK and four in Paris via the Tunnel. I’m holding five seats, and you can have them for next to nothing. Anyone you can think of for the extra tickets, fine.” Suzanne explained the dates, departure time, and gave the price.

  Sarah whistled. “It won’t work for me, but I’d love this bargain for a gal named Blaine Cartier who sure could use a trip. She’s nearly broke. The only way she’ll get a vacation is a deal like this…”

  Suzanne interrupted. “Isn’t she an English Lit teacher at the community college?”

  “You know her?” Sarah sounded surprised.

  Suzanne harrumphed. “Wish I didn’t. I thought I had some talent as a poet until I took her Creative Writing class. She was brutal.”

  “I’m sorry you had such a negative experience. She seems sweet.”

  Suzanne sipped from her coffee mug. “Not in her classroom.”

  “You’re right, Sarah,” Karen agreed. “This would be perfect for Blaine.”

  “You know her too?”

  “If it’s who I’m thinking of, I met her when she came to one session of my divorce support group.”

  Sarah explained her connection. “Blaine’s from my church, and she’s stuck in grieving for her deceased daughter, plus dealing with anger toward an ex-husband. This trip would be a godsend.” She was careful not to reveal Blaine was a counseling client.

  “If only it could help.” Karen spoke pensively.

  Suzanne jumped in again. “I don’t care who fills these slots. I just need a certain number to qualify for this terrific discount. Tell Blaine Cartier, by all means. How about you, Karen?” Suzanne pressed for an answer.

  “I’m interested in the trip for myself,” Karen piped in. “And perhaps my secretary will be. She’s been wanting to go somewhere in Europe other than her usual jaunts to Ireland visiting family. I just have to make sure my colleague John can handle any crisis clients while I’m away.”

  “Okay. I need to know definitely within three days,” Suzanne clarified. “First come, first serve. I want to have this tour full, gals. Karen, I’m putting you down as a tentative yes.”

  “Fine.”

  Sarah explained she already had an upcoming trip to Paris with Larry. “Thanks for the offer anyway.”

  “Sure. Have the Cartier gal let me know ASAP. I’m not even taking my usual minimum commission on this. Such a deal!” She laughed.

  THIRTY-THREE

  I so hope Blaine can go. Sarah’s insides quivered with excitement. She whispered a quick prayer as she pressed her phone number.

  “Blaine, hope you’re sitting down. Get ready for a shock. How does a trip to Europe sound?”

  “For me? You’ve got me mixed up with someone else. I’m nearly broke, remember?”

  “This will fit even your budget, believe me.” Sarah recited the cost and other trip details. “One fee covers plane, hotel, and two meals a day, with guided tours daily. Perhaps you’ve never done comparison-shopping for a European trip but take my word, this is an amazing price.”

  “You’re so kind to think of me. How I wish I could take advantage of it.” Blaine reviewed her financial situation aloud. “You know what, I just may be able to pull this off if I sell my one last possession of value—the painting from my grandmother’s estate that was Cindy’s favorite. I’d intended to save it, but, well, it makes me too sad to see it now. Carla Madsen, the agent who sold me the painting in my more affluent days, is confident she can find a buyer. It’s a Pinot original of a mother and child.”

  “The trip deposit is half down immediately. I can help if necessary.”

  “Even before the sale, I should be able to swing it with my credit card.” Blaine stopped mid-sentence and moaned.

  “What is it?”

  “I just happened to think about Larry’s reaction. He’ll say I’m living in luxury when he hears I’m going to Europe and try to cut my tiny maintenance even lower. I can hear him now, ‘If she can afford overseas travel, on and on.’”

  “Why does he need to know?”

  “He calls me every week to check what I’m doing.”

  “He still knows your schedule?” Sarah tried to keep her disapproval out of her voice tone.

  “Old habits die slow. I don’t know why he bothers to keep track.”

  “Deep down maybe because he still cares,” Sarah suggested.

  “No way! He’s made it quite clear over and over that I’m a money drain to him, nothing more.”

  “Your husband gave up his right to know the details of your life when he chose to divorce you. It’s not necessary to tell him anything about your affairs.”

  Blaine was silent for several seconds.

  “Are you still there?” Sarah asked.

  “You’re right! When Cindy was alive, I had to let Larry know when we went anywhere. I guess I’m just used to telling him. I should be free of him now.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “When he calls and doesn’t get me, he’ll wonder where I am and probably call my office at the college.”

  “Okay, so don’t tell your boss either—just say you’re taking some R & R days. Nothing deceitful about not telling everything you know.”

  Blaine sniffled.

  Sarah sensed her sadness. If only she could take this trip and enjoy life again.

  “Larry certainly never told me what he was doing. The other day he let slip he used to let Althea borrow my clothes to wear on dates. He often brought her to our home the nights I spent at the hospital with Cindy. She and I wear the same size, and some evenings it was more convenient than having her go back to her apartment to change. What a violation—my wardrobe and my husband. I’d once befriended Althea, interviewed her for the job, and recommended Larry hire her to help out in the office when I had to cut work hours to be home with Cindy.”

  “His deceit and the abandonment along with Cindy’s illness were lousy, but…”

  “I know what you’re going to say, I need to forgive him and let it go.”

  Sarah sighed. “Yes, better to forgive and get on with your life. I often see women destroy their present joy because they keep feeding on bitterness from the past. If there’s any way you can make this trip happen, do it. I’ll help any way I can. Sorry to pressure you for a decision, but my travel agent said you’d need to act quickly. I’d love for you to enjoy something wonderful.”

  “Thanks so much.” Blaine’s voice grew hoarse. “I’ll pray about it.”

  “If God gives the go ahead, here’s the number of Suzanne at Oleston Travel.”

  * * *

  Blaine put the receiver down slowly. A surge of warmth spread through her body. A picture of herself around age fourteen appeared from memory. She sat with a friend sipping hot chocolate after ice-skating on Lake Wionna.

  A friend? Since her marriage, her entire focus had been Larry and then Cindy. She’d worked side by side to advance his business. Friends were a luxury she’d cut out of her life.

  When Cindy became ill, Blaine cut off all social interests. How nice to have Sarah’s friendship, to be thought of by someone else again. The feeling was foreign. She only wished she hadn’t mentioned Larry and Althea tonight. She’d vowed each day she wouldn’t think or speak about them because even their names brought her pain.

  Dear Jesus, why do I keep adding fuel to my bitterness? Sarah’s right to strongly recommend I stop reliving my hurts. I want to, but it’s so hard. Just when I think I’ve s
ucceeded, I’m back at it. Help me finally break free, Lord.

  Blaine sensed God’s reply. Your heart needs time to heal. Don’t be hard on yourself. Remember there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

  She lowered her head and spoke out loud. “But am I in you, Lord? What does that mean?”

  Trust me and obey, as much as you’re able—I’ll do the rest.

  She raised her head. “Thank you, Lord.”

  Blaine returned to her lecture preparation, although the ability to concentrate eluded her. She looked at the clock—almost 11 p.m. Time for an exercise break. She slipped into her purple down jacket. A walk around the pond might calm her enough to sleep.

  Stepping into the cold, dark night she pulled her hood up and prayed aloud into the stillness, “Lord, show me your plan. Is this trip a gift from you? Can I afford to take the time off? What should I do?”

  The wind bit into her cheeks and twigs crackled beneath her feet as she forced her mind to explore her feelings about this trip.

  Would she like to go on vacation with a group of women? She’d never traveled without Larry for more than a few overnights. Was security an issue? Surely it would be safe, if she stayed with the group.

  Blaine shook her head. What am I thinking? I’ve never been out of the country. I don’t know anything about getting a passport or going through customs.

  Sarah told her the travel agent would explain what she needed to do. Blaine took a deep breath. I need to stop these thoughts of death and defeat.

  Beneath a huge globe of moonlight, stress from not having made a decision settled over her. Blaine walked quicker and found the brisk pace refreshing.

  Somehow, could she figure out how to pull this off?

  Cindy’s death had reminded her how short life could be. Surely Blaine should try to find some joy. But would she ever?

  THIRTY-FOUR

  “Peg, call Suzanne Oleston at her travel agency to get the complete itinerary for the European trip she’s putting together for me and a couple other gals. And please block out the dates on my calendar. Thanks.”