Page 21 of A Girl Like Janet

He raked his hands through his hair and took off his jacket, placing it over the back of the sofa.

If Janet didn’t know better she’d say that he looked reluctant, uneasy. His mouth was pinched, his eyes dull. She placed a

silken strand of hair around her ear. “I suppose you’re wondering what I did about the appointments you had for today,” she

began, her voice slightly shaky.

“No.” The word was clipped, almost angry.

Still standing, Janet took a step back, pretending she hadn’t heard. “I phoned Bob Pratt at the warehouse and made arrangements

to have—”

“Janet,” he demanded, his expression brooding. “I want to talk to you.”

“I’m sure you do. Sit down”—her hand gestured toward the couch—“there’s coffee if you’d like a cup.”

“I don’t want coffee. I don’t want to discuss business. And for heaven’s sake”—he rammed his fists into his pockets—“will

you stop fidgeting like a rabbit. I’m not going to pounce on you.”

Hands clenched behind her, Janet backed into the wall. There was that look about him; she had recognized it almost immediately.

She’d seen it that night in the parking lot after the movie, again when he had kissed her on Priest Creek. She couldn’t trust

Reese when he looked at her like that. Worse, she couldn’t trust herself.

“Why are you here?” she questioned, her voice trembling slightly. It was vital that she keep her distance. Her awareness of

him was growing every second. His presence filled the room.

“I want to talk about us.”

“Us?” She repeated the lone word like a recording, drawing in a deep breath.

His blue gaze seemed to pin her down as the lines around his mouth tightened.

A wave of heat invaded her face. He couldn’t do this to her, not again. She couldn’t bear it. He’d lied to her about the cabin,

ruining one of the most beautiful days of her life. He had gone from her arms to Bunny’s without regret. Not once, but time

after time. No, she wouldn’t share him; she was greedy. It had to be all or nothing.

Swiftly she walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took out the orange juice.

“What are you doing?” He followed her into the cozy room and regarded her movements with a trace of anger in his eyes.

“I’m thirsty,” she stammered, her hands visibly shaking as she took down a glass and poured the juice. Tipping her head back,

she swallowed. The chilled liquid felt soothing against her dry throat. When she finished she asked again, “Are you sure you

wouldn’t like something?” Her breathing was unnatural, almost husky.

Reese was standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance, the dark, intense gaze holding her motionless. “Yes, I want something,”

he said dryly. “I want you to come into the living room, sit down and listen to me.”

“Okay.” She attempted to sound nonchalant and natural.

His hand at her shoulder, he guided her into the room, gently pushed her into the overstuffed chair and sat on the ottoman

so that he was directly in front of her. Taking both her hands into his, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

His gaze centered on her fingers.

“As I mentioned, I want to talk about us.”

A lump formed in her throat and Janet looked away. “I didn’t know there was an us.” Wasn’t that what he had said to her? If

she expected any sense of triumph in hurling his own words back at him, she was disappointed. Only an empty, depleted feeling

returned.

Reese looked up, shock filling his eyes before he could disguise it.

The phone rang and Janet leaped up to answer it, grateful for an excuse to move away from him. Her back facing Reese, she

picked up the receiver.

“Hello.”

An embarrassed silence followed. “Sorry, wrong number.” The line was disconnected.

“Hello, Gary,” she spoke into the receiver. Lying, pretending, she detested it all. Hadn’t she done it often enough in the

past for Reese? Again there was no sense of exultation in tricking him. “Yes, I’m free Friday.” She hesitated, giving the

impression that she was listening. The dial tone droned in her ear. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much. I’ll look forward

to seeing you.” Again she paused. “Good-bye.” Her hand was shaking as she replaced the receiver. Thankfully, Reese couldn’t

see how unsettled she was.

Janet heard him stand, could feel the barely restrained anger of his movements behind her.

“Perhaps it would be better if we discussed this another time.” His control was unnerving.

“Yes, I think it would.” Her sigh was bitter.

“Good night then.”

Still she remained poised by the phone, her hand clenching the receiver. Slowly, painfully she lowered her thick lashes.

“Good night, Mr. Edwards.”

“Miss Montgomery,” he hissed in a voice filled with contempt.

She heard the door slam and her heart shattered like a fragile piece of crystal that had been hurled against a cement wall.

After tonight Reese would hate her; she had willfully injured his pride. His ego wouldn’t tolerate such rejection.

For a long time afterward Janet sat on the couch staring into space. First she tried to force herself to pray and read her

Bible, anything to keep her mind off what she had done. Nothing worked. For a time she felt only a numbness. Gradually feeling

returned as a haze of pain swirled its way around her. The ache took the form of nagging guilt. Lying to Reese was wrong.

Very wrong.

The next morning Janet woke with a throbbing headache. Her fingertips pressed against her temples, she walked into the kitchen.

“Who drank all the orange juice?” Gail questioned, rummaging through the refrigerator.

“Guess?” Janet murmured sarcastically.

It was so unusual for Janet to be out of sorts that Gail paused and turned around. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Wonderful,” Janet said, expelling a long sigh. “But I think I have Excedrin headache number two hundred.”

“That bad?” Gail questioned, a frown creasing her brow. “Are you sure you feel up to working? I can phone in for you if you

like.”

“No.” Janet dismissed her friend’s concern with a short shake of her head, then groaned as fresh pain shot through the top

of her skull.

There had never been a time in her life that Janet dreaded seeing anyone more than she did Reese Edwards that morning. Hoping

to delay the inevitable as long as possible, she quietly opened the door to her office and tiptoed inside. Noiselessly she

removed her coat and hung it on the hanger before moving across the room to put on the coffee.

“Dad, I didn’t mean that.”

Janet stopped in midstep. Reese was with his father and Janet had heard that tone of voice between the two men enough to know

that they were arguing. Electricity seemed to hang in the air. Janet could feel it even from this distance.

“I know you didn’t, son.” The elder man sounded defeated and discouraged. Janet could picture him hunched forward. She had

seen him sitting like that in the past and had wondered what painful memories haunted him. The cheerful facade had never reached

his eyes. There was an ache in Samuel Edwards’ life, one that went deep enough to reach his soul.

“Reese, you’re wasting your life. You can’t fool me, I see the restlessness in you. I want you to be happy. Why do you insist

on dating these shallow women? Do you want this Bubbles girl to mother my grandchildren?” the older man questioned, his voice

vaguely pleading.

“Bunny,” Reese corrected sharply.

“Bubbles, Bunny, I don’t see the difference. Why is it you can’t be serious with nice girls?”

“Dad.” Again Reese’s voice was filled with warning.

“A girl like Janet.”

“I think I’ve had enough of this conversation.” Although Janet couldn’t see the two men, she could tell from the direction

of Reese’s voice that he had moved to the other side of the office.

“Why is it you never want to discuss Janet?” Samuel Edwards demanded. “The last time I suggested you marry Janet you nearly

threw me out of my own office.”

Enough, Janet’s mind screamed... enough. Wildly she looked around her like a trapped animal seeking escape. Making as little

noise as possible, she walked out of the office.