Now and Forever Read Free Page B

didn't talk about, didn't hurt each other with, didn't use. A good marriage relied on consideration, and sometimes keeping your mouth shut and just letting the other guy be was consideration ... love. Her parents were dead now; they hadn't been young when she'd been born. Her mother had been in her late thirties, her father just past forty-five. And Jessie had been four when Jake was born. But marrying late, they had respected each other more than most couples did. They were not inclined to make changes in each other. It had taught Jessie a lot.
    But they were all gone now. It had already been three years. Almost exactly. Her parents had died within months of each other. Jake had died a year before that, in Vietnam, at the crest of his twenties. Gone. Jessica was the only one left. But she had Ian. Thank God there was Ian. It sent little tremors up her spine when she thought of it that way ... what would she do without Ian? Die ... the way her father had done without her mother ... die ... she couldn't live without Ian. He was her all now. He held her late at night when she was afraid. He made her laugh when something touched too deep and made her sad. He remembered the moments that mattered, knew the things that she loved, understood her private language, laughed at all her worst jokes. He knew. She was his woman, and his little girl. That was what she needed. Ian. So what did it matter if there were occasional indiscretions she didn't really know about? As long as he was there when it counted. And he always was.
    She heard the doors slide open; the people began to press into the aisles. The five-hour flight was over. It was time to go home. Jessie brushed the creases from her slacks with one hand and reached for her coat with the other. It was a bright orange suede that she wore over beige suede pants and a print silk shirt in shades of caramel. Her green eyes glowed in her suntanned face, and her blond hair swung thick and free past her shoulders. Ian loved her in orange, and the had bought the coat in New York. She smiled to herself, thinking how he'd love it--almost as much as the Pierre Cardin blazer she'd brought him. It was fun to spoil Ian.
    Three businessmen and a gaggle of women pressed out before her, but she was tall enough to see over the chattering women's heads. He was there at the gate, and she waved as he grinned broadly, waving back, and then he moved swiftly toward her, gently weaving his way through the people ahead of her. Then he had reached her and was taking her in his arms.
    "It's about time you came home ... and looking like that, you'll be lucky if I don't rape you right here." He looked so pleased. And then he kissed her. She was home.
    "Go ahead. Rape me. I dare you." But they stood where they were, drinking each other in, saying it all with their eyes. Jessie couldn't keep a smile from her lips, or her hands from his face. "You feel so good." She loved the softness and spiced lemon smell of his skin.
    "Jessie, if you knew how I missed you ..." She nodded, knowing. She had missed him at least as much.
    "How's the book?"
    "Nice." They spoke in the brief banalities of those who know each other better than well. They didn't need many words. "Really nice." He picked up her large brown leather tote from the floor where she'd dropped it to kiss him. "Come on, sexy lady, let's go home." She looped her arm into his, and together they walked in long even strides, her hair brushing his shoulder, her every move a complement to his.
    "I brought you a present."
    He smiled. She always did.
    "Bought yourself one too, I see. That's some coat."
    "Do you like it? Or is it awful? I was afraid it was a little too loud." It was a burnt caramel bordering on flame.
    "On you it looks good. Everything does."
    "Jesus, you're being nice to me! What did you do? Smash up the car?"
    "Now, is that a nice thing to say? I ask you. Is that nice?"
    "Did you?" But she was laughing and so was he.
    "No, I traded it for a Honda