“Thank you, Jordan. Now, I need to get back into the kitchen before the food burns.”
She bustled out and disappeared down the hallway. We snacked on the tray of vegetables she’d carefully arranged and shared stories about our day.
To my surprise, it didn’t feel different from any other Thursday, even with Jordan there and all the effort Mrs. Marshall had gone to. Somehow, he slid seamlessly into my life. He fit perfectly as if he had always been there.
When Mrs. Marshall announced that the meal was ready, we moved into the dining room and my father turned the conversation to Jordan, asking him questions about his life and his childhood.
Though Jordan didn’t hide his past from me, he still rarely spoke of it, as though he didn’t think about it at all. I listened raptly as he answered my father’s questions. I probably should have intervened in the third degree, but I was as curious as Dad when it came to Jordan. I just never asked because I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
Jordan seemed unfazed by my father’s nosiness, answering his questions without hesitation or embarrassment.
“So what brought you and your family to America?” Dad asked, blithely unaware that he had just asked a difficult question.
“Well, Aunt Joyce was born here. She is my father’s half-sister. When my mother and father died, their will stated that they wished for her to take me in.”
My father looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t realize…”
Jordan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Will. It happened a long time ago. I’ve moved on from the grief.”
I studied him closely, wondering if that were true. My mother had died over twenty years ago and there were times when the grief would strike me as sharp and fresh as if it had been yesterday. I’d come to realize that would always be the case. There would be times I would miss her beyond reason or logic. Her absence would be more acute and the pain of her loss new once again.
My father changed the topic of conversation to lighter subjects with practiced ease, but I spent the rest of the evening watching Jordan, wondering how he could be so detached from the loss of both his parents at the same time.
If my father had died with my mother, I wasn’t sure I would have been able to deal with it. Especially if I were an only child as Jordan was.
Even though I still had my father after mom died, he seemed so detached, lost in a fog of his own grief. He struggled to connect with us, to remain in the moment. More often than not, Tessa had been the one to comfort me when I cried.
It had taken nearly a month for my father to snap out of his trance and refocus on our family again, but Tessa had made that time bearable.
When dinner and dessert were devoured and coffee drunk, I found myself on the couch, yawning.
Dad saw me even though I tried to hide it behind my hand and glanced at the clock. “Well, it’s getting late. I think it’s time you took my daughter home,” he said to Jordan as he stood.
Jordan got to his feet as well, offering Dad his hand. “Thank you for having me here for dinner. It was delicious.”
Dad took his hand and shook it firmly. “I’ll be sure to share that with Beverly. She’ll be pleased you enjoyed it.”
I got up and gave my father a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner, Dad.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” He squeezed me tightly. “Bring Jordan with you from now on, okay?”
I grinned. “I take it you like him.”
“As much as I can like any man who’s going to take my baby away.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not exactly a baby anymore, Dad.”
“You’ll always be my baby,” he replied. “Now, get home and get some rest. I can tell you’re nearly asleep on your feet.”
“Yes, sir.”
He just shook his head at my snappy retort and released me.
As Jordan and I drove home, I stared out the car window, my mind on what he said about his parents at dinner. About being over the grief.
“What’s on your mind, Tanya?” Jordan asked, reaching over to take my hand.
I turned my head toward him, studying his profile in the dim interior of the car. His thumb moved in a slow caress over the back of my hand. “Are you really over losing your parents?” I questioned quietly.
