Read Online The Pardon by James Grippando - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Grippando
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sun warmed her forehead. The sound of her own voice speaking in a dream woke her, and she rolled over onto her side. Jack, she said, nudging his shoulder. We need to talk.
Huh? Jack rubbed his eyes and turned to face her. He stole a look at the alarm clock and saw that it was just 7:00 A. M.
Be back in a second, he said as he slid to the side of the bed, stood up, then sat right back down. Whoa, he groaned, feeling the first throb of a hangover so massive that had someone suggested amputation as the only cure, he might have considered it. He sighed, resigning himself to remaining seated. Listen, he said as he glanced over his shoulder at Cindy, I'm sorry about last night, okay?
Cindy sat up, then hesitated, deciding whether to cross the line between them. It was strange, but after ten months of living with him, she suddenly felt uncomfortable about Jack, sitting there in his striped underwear, and about herself, wearing only an oversized T-shirt.
I'm sorry too, she said as she slid tentatively across the bed. She sat on the edge, beside him, though she kept her distance. But it's not enough just to exchange apologies. We need to talk. I've been giving this a lot of thought.
Giving what a lot of thought?
She grimaced. I've been offered a photo shoot for the Italian Trade Consulate. In Italy.
He smiled, relieved it was good news. That's fantastic, absolutely terrific, he said as he reached out and squeezed her hand. That's the kind of thing you've always dreamed about. Why didn't you tell me before?
Because I'd have to leave right away - and it'll take me away for three or four months.
He shrugged it off. We can survive that.
That's just it, she said, averting her eyes. I'm not so sure we can.
What do you mean? he asked, his smile fading.
She sighed. What I mean is, we have problems, Jack. And the problem isn't really us. It's something inside you that for some reason you just won't share.
He looked away. She was right. The problem was inside him.
We've been over this before, he said. I mope - get in these lousy moods. A lot of it's work - the job I do. He thought for a second of telling her he'd quit the Freedom Institute, but decided that being jobless wouldn't help his case. But I'm dealing with it.
There's just something that makes you unable or unwilling to communicate and expose yourself emotionally. I can't just dismiss it. As long as we've been together, you've been completely incapable of reaching out to your own father and solving whatever it is that keeps you two apart. It worries me that you handle relationship problems that way. It worries me so much that I took the Goss trial as an opportunity to get away from you for a few days. To think about us whether we have a future. I honestly wasn't sure how I was going to leave it. Whether I'd say, Let's just go our separate ways' or I still love you, I'll phone and write and see you when I get back from Europe.'
And you were going to make that decision by yourself? he asked, now somewhat annoyed. I was just supposed to go along with whatever you announced?
No, I knew we had to talk, but it just wasn't that easy. It gets a little more complicated.
In what way?
She looked at her toes. I'm not going alone, she said sheepishly. It's me and Chet.
His mouth opened, but the words wouldn't come. Chet, he finally uttered. Chet was Cindy's old boss at Image Maker Studios, her first employer out of college - and the man in her life before Jack had come along. Jack felt sick.
It's not what you think, Cindy said. It's purely professional -
Why are you doing it this way? he asked, ignoring her explanation. Do you think I'm gonna go over the edge if you just tell me the truth and dump me? I won't, don't worry. I'm stronger than that. For the past month, every time I turn on the nightly news or read a newspaper, it's one story after another about confessed killer Eddy Goss and his lawyer, Jack Swyteck - always mentioned in the same sentence, always in the same
Huh? Jack rubbed his eyes and turned to face her. He stole a look at the alarm clock and saw that it was just 7:00 A. M.
Be back in a second, he said as he slid to the side of the bed, stood up, then sat right back down. Whoa, he groaned, feeling the first throb of a hangover so massive that had someone suggested amputation as the only cure, he might have considered it. He sighed, resigning himself to remaining seated. Listen, he said as he glanced over his shoulder at Cindy, I'm sorry about last night, okay?
Cindy sat up, then hesitated, deciding whether to cross the line between them. It was strange, but after ten months of living with him, she suddenly felt uncomfortable about Jack, sitting there in his striped underwear, and about herself, wearing only an oversized T-shirt.
I'm sorry too, she said as she slid tentatively across the bed. She sat on the edge, beside him, though she kept her distance. But it's not enough just to exchange apologies. We need to talk. I've been giving this a lot of thought.
Giving what a lot of thought?
She grimaced. I've been offered a photo shoot for the Italian Trade Consulate. In Italy.
He smiled, relieved it was good news. That's fantastic, absolutely terrific, he said as he reached out and squeezed her hand. That's the kind of thing you've always dreamed about. Why didn't you tell me before?
Because I'd have to leave right away - and it'll take me away for three or four months.
He shrugged it off. We can survive that.
That's just it, she said, averting her eyes. I'm not so sure we can.
What do you mean? he asked, his smile fading.
She sighed. What I mean is, we have problems, Jack. And the problem isn't really us. It's something inside you that for some reason you just won't share.
He looked away. She was right. The problem was inside him.
We've been over this before, he said. I mope - get in these lousy moods. A lot of it's work - the job I do. He thought for a second of telling her he'd quit the Freedom Institute, but decided that being jobless wouldn't help his case. But I'm dealing with it.
There's just something that makes you unable or unwilling to communicate and expose yourself emotionally. I can't just dismiss it. As long as we've been together, you've been completely incapable of reaching out to your own father and solving whatever it is that keeps you two apart. It worries me that you handle relationship problems that way. It worries me so much that I took the Goss trial as an opportunity to get away from you for a few days. To think about us whether we have a future. I honestly wasn't sure how I was going to leave it. Whether I'd say, Let's just go our separate ways' or I still love you, I'll phone and write and see you when I get back from Europe.'
And you were going to make that decision by yourself? he asked, now somewhat annoyed. I was just supposed to go along with whatever you announced?
No, I knew we had to talk, but it just wasn't that easy. It gets a little more complicated.
In what way?
She looked at her toes. I'm not going alone, she said sheepishly. It's me and Chet.
His mouth opened, but the words wouldn't come. Chet, he finally uttered. Chet was Cindy's old boss at Image Maker Studios, her first employer out of college - and the man in her life before Jack had come along. Jack felt sick.
It's not what you think, Cindy said. It's purely professional -
Why are you doing it this way? he asked, ignoring her explanation. Do you think I'm gonna go over the edge if you just tell me the truth and dump me? I won't, don't worry. I'm stronger than that. For the past month, every time I turn on the nightly news or read a newspaper, it's one story after another about confessed killer Eddy Goss and his lawyer, Jack Swyteck - always mentioned in the same sentence, always in the same
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