Unforgettable by Linda Barrett (story reading .TXT) đ
- Author: Linda Barrett
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âBut I needed those three credits to get my degree.â Her voice fell away as the memory played as sharply as if it had happened yesterday. âThe essays were all submitted anonymously. The prof picked you to read mine. And when I reached the doorâmy hand was on the knobâ you said I couldnât leave, that the course was required for graduation. Smarty-pants.â But a shard of pain still stung inside.
âMaybeâŠjust maybe,â Doug slowly began, âit was too soon for you to take that writing course.â
She stared at him then, examining his features, discerning a softness, a compassion that she hadnât noticed then.
âWho knows?â she replied, her voice low. âThat shrink all us kids visited after the accident wanted us to write in a diary. A private journalâŠâ She shrugged. âThat class lasted for one semesterâthe longest ever fifteen weeks in collegeâbut in the end, I handled it.â
She watched him pull out his phone. âYou handled that and a lot of other things. Now, can you handle giving me your cell number? Or will I have to call you at work and interrupt you again and again?â
âFools rush inâŠâ she sang quietly.
His head jerked up. âYou wonât be sorry, Jenny. Weâll take it slow.â
Maybe it was the only way to discover once and for all what it was about this man that put other men in the shade. Sheâd spent five years keeping busier than ten people so as not to miss him. I Will Survive. As the song had reminded her Friday night, she had a lot of love to give. If Doug had frozen her heart, then maybe he was the right one to melt it again or at least help her reach a closure that worked. A final closure. So sheâd be able to move on.
âItâs not the speed,â she whispered. âItâs the uncertainty. The trust.â She extended her hand. âGive me your phone.â
##
Trust was a big one. The only one. Doug couldnât get the word out of his mind all day as he finished setting up his apartment, made and answered phone calls, and once more studied the script for The Sanctuary. Jen had a trust problem with him. Of course, she was wrong. Heâd never hurt her. Never. In time, sheâd understand that.
Back in the theater on Monday morning, Doug greeted the playâs producer, who had many projects behind him, and the young director, whoâd already made a name for herself locally. They wore big smiles, and exuded high energy and anticipation. A great way to start.
âIâm thrilled that youâve decided to stage this in Boston,â said Lynn, as she shook Dougâs hand and sat down. She glanced at her cohort. âWe both are.â
âYou wonât be sorry,â added Jake. âOur theater group has won many awards due to our high-quality performances, provided, I might add, at a fair price.â
âTwo excellent attributes for a successful playhouse,â said Doug with a smile. âSince Iâm on staff at the university this year, Iâd say it all worked out.â He held up his well-worn script. âCan we get down to business now?â
Instantly, the conversation ceased, and the analysis began. Doug noted that each of the othersâ manuscripts looked as dog-eared as his. Theater was a risky business, and no one wanted to fail.
Three hours went by before Dougâs stomach growled. He looked at his watch and pushed his chair back. âIâm starving.â
But he felt Lynnâs hand on his arm. âBefore we break, I just want to say how much I love this play. I love each character. And I love the title. The Sanctuary. Itâs perfect.â
âThanks,â said Doug. âItâs funny how sometimes a title comes hard, but this oneâŠ? It whispered to me.â
âItâs a winner all around,â confirmed Jake. âThe way I see it, our mission is to cast it properly here, have a good run, and then you can bring it to New York.â
Dougâs stomach tightened. âLetâs take one step at a time.â Sure, Broadway was the goal, but as heâd told Jen, heâd just be a consultant and commute to New York as needed. âWeâll see what happens.â
He watched the other two exchange a quizzical glance. âWeâll see?â asked Lynn. âThereâs no âweâll seeâ about it. This is a powerful story. It deserves to be on Broadway!â
Doug cocked his head and smiled appreciatively. âNice to have a fan club, but letâs just say, Iâm paying it forward. My first play, The Broken Circle, was produced here when I was a lowly undergrad, and now itâs doing well in New York.â He shook his head. âSometimes I can hardly believe it myself.â
But his success had come with a price. A vision of Jen filled his mindâJen in all her moods â thoughtful, with a crinkle in her brow, happy, with a wide, beautiful smile, loving, with a warmth in her eyes and gentle hands caressing his cheek. Heâd turned his world upside down because of her, always knew he would after heâd tied up his loose ends in New York. Their story was not yet finished.
##
So much for giving him my cell number. At ten that evening, after a full day of client meetings followed by the training seminar, Jen yawned and prepared for bed. She hadnât heard from Doug all day, and the flash of disappointment she felt annoyed her.
But just then she heard the whoosh of a text signal. She glanced at her phone and felt herself smile.
R U up?
Big day. Just about to go to bed.
Not yet.
The phone rang. âSo how did your busy day go?â
âHang on. I want to get comfortable.â She leaned back against her pillows before replying. âActually, my day went very well both personally and professionally. Lisaâs home, and if all goes well, baby Brianna should be home in a few days.â
âThatâs really great. A load off your mindâoff everyoneâs mindâknowing how close your family is.â
His last sentence echoed the past. âNothingâs changed about that, Doug.â Her voice hardened. âThe Delaney-Brennan clan is tight. Always will be. So, if thatâs still a problem for youâŠ?â
âHoly Toledo, Jen! Take a breath. Cool it.â
She waited.
He spoke again, his tone calm. âOf course, I know your familyâs tight. And I know you all had to be in order to survive. Okay? And now, youâre all grown up, living a grown-up life.â
âStill in Boston.â
She heard his laugh. âSo you are. And here I am, back here, too.â
Her muscles relaxed one by one, like a balloon slowly deflating. âI guess so. At least, you seem to beâfor now.â
âCount on it, Jenny. Iâm not going anywhere. Now, tell me about your great day in the office.â
Okay, he was trying. âLots of training with more to come. All part of growing my career.â
âSo what do you actually do?â
She paused, wondered if heâd get it. âSimply put, I help clients plan for their financial future. You knowâthe usual. Investment guidance, retirement planning, income strategies, wealth management and even college planning. Iâve got my Series 7 and 63 as well as my insurance licenses. I love doing this.â
A low whistle came through the line. âAll that from the girl who computed the family budget and told her big sister how much to spend?â
âLisa couldnât even balance a checkbook back then. I figured it out at sixteen. And why do you remember that little factoid?â
âHenny-Penny, there isnât anything about you that I donât remember.â
Her breath caught. âSounds scary.â
âNope. Sounds like Iâm getting your attention.â
Time to change the subject. âAnd how was your day?â
âWant the good news first, or the bad news?â
âBad news? Already? You just started. I swear, a career like yours would give me hives.â
âAnd the stock market doesnât go up and down?â
âWe plan for that. We plan for all the contingencies.â
His quiet laughter came through the phone. âWhat a big word! Contingencies. Sounds to me that itâs more about control. Sweetheart, no matter how hard you work, you canât control the world.â
âBut I sure as shootinâ can control my world.â
##
It was the way she said it, so seriously, as if she truly had total power, that amused him as he said goodnight. Her tender spot. Her world had exploded years ago but would never do so againâif Jen had anything to say about it.
When his phone rang, he saw Jenâs name and answered quickly.
âAnything wrong?â
âWe talked about my job, but you didnât tell me about your day.â
A soft and sexy voice. No wonder she was a natural jazz singer.
âYouâre right. SoâŠâ
âGood news first,â she interrupted. âLet me enjoy it before problems rear their nasty heads.â
âNot your problems to solve, kiddo. Iâve got this.â
Silence met his ear. âJen? Still there?â
âY-e-s.â She sounded unsure.
âWhat?â
âJust thinking. Youâre right. I donât have to solve your problems. Youâre an adult now, too. With one show on Broadway, and one off-Broadway, you must be earning a living. So, tell me the good news.â
âThe producer and director for The Sanctuary love the script, which means theyâll go to hell and back to do it right. Tomorrow, weâre holding our first auditions for the main characters. Itâs an exciting time. And Iâm betting on Boston not to let me down.â Sheâd never understand the chance he was taking by leaving New York.
âIt wonât. Just like when The Broken Circle was put on in school. It wasâ was like magic. You almost cried.â
âYou were supposed to forget about that!â
âNah. I could see you were overwhelmed. Awestruck to see your printed words brought to life.â She paused, and he waited. âDoug?â
âYeah?â
âIs it still like that? Still awesome?â
âEvery. Single. Time.â
She spoke softly then. So softly, he strained to hear her. âThen I guess you made the right choice five years agoâŠand for the right reasons.â
He couldnât breathe.
âAnd so did I,â she whispered.
It was hard to put Doug out of her mind, to pretend he wasnât back in town. That idea was totally unrealistic now. After a restless night, however, Jen went to work the next day determined to keep a friendly distance. Doug could be one of her guy friends. Like Evan or Matt. She and Doug had both found what theyâd been seeking. Theyâd put their educations to good use. He loved his work, she loved hers. Correct choices. Case closed. The past was in the past.
Within five minutes at work, she was fully engrossedâpersonal appointments, customer calls, and her own seminar that afternoon. At quitting time, she grabbed her purse and realized sheâd gotten through the day without thinking about Doug too much, if she didnât count every in-between moment. He was someone she used to knowâŠas the song said.
Her cell rang at ten oâclock that evening.
âHow was your day?â came the familiar voice.
âBusy. As is the rest of my week.â
âOuch. Sending me a message?â
Was she? âIâmâŠfiguring that out myself.â
âTake all the time you need. Iâm not going anywhere.â
That seemed to be his theme. Time to focus on him. âAnd how was your day?â
âMy dayâŠwell, as it happens, I have good news and bad news.â
âAgain? That seems to be your daily report. I do not like bad news, not anyoneâs bad news.â Her throat began closing, her voice quiet. Even ten years later, the words instilled fear.
âJenny, shhâŠnot to worry. Itâs professional, not personal.â
Didnât matter. Her adrenaline surged anyway. Bad news meant all her senses on alert. âOkay, Iâm ready.â
âI heard from my agent friend today.
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