I could hear the crickets chirping as we walked back to the car. Once inside, Jon took a deep breath before launching into an apology. "I didn't mean to pounce on you earlier. You said you needed to take things slow and I guess I got impatient. I'm sorry for getting upset at you."
I turned to stare at him in shock. "Then you still like me?"
He looked panicked. "What? Of course I do! What gave you that idea?"
"You didn't answer me earlier," I replied, confused. "I thought…"
"Just because I'm frustrated doesn't mean I can turn my feelings off. I love you no matter what. Even if I don't understand you sometimes."
"No matter what," I repeated quietly. I was sure that didn't extend to murder. "Jon, I don't think you know what you've gotten yourself into. I'm not what you think I am."
"Nothing you tell me could chase me away," he said earnestly, grasping my hands and looking into my eyes.
I looked away. "Jon…I…"
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "Okay?"
"But—"
He cut me off with a kiss. This one lasted longer than the only other one we'd had. It felt much the same as before. I still didn't like it but I could tell he was trying to reassure me so I went along with it.
When the kiss ended he gently placed a hand on my cheek and leaned his forehead against mine. "I love you so much, Lori. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable telling me things."
He really did love me. What could I do? He was my friend. He was okay with taking things slow, whatever that actually meant.
I didn't like this fake relationship between all the guilt and the lies but I wasn't ready to lose all contact with him. Today proved that. It was disconcerting to realize that my fake boyfriend had wormed his way past my defenses after all—if not in the way he thought.
"I love you too. Thanks."
The way Jon smiled at me was enough to melt anyone else's heart. The rest of the ride home was spent chatting about insignificant things but at least it wasn't awkward anymore. He leaned over to kiss me again before I got out of the car.
So much for taking things slow. What was I going to do with him?
===
I was accosted by Sherry after lunch the next day. If she had more paperwork for me to do on cases I hadn't even participated in, I was going to scream. She gestured for me to follow her into her office and I meekly complied.
"You've done a lot of paperwork," she began, straightening her glasses. "Are you starting to lose your mind yet?"
More than she could possibly know. I laughed lightly. "Don't we all after a while?"
Sherry smiled. "I suppose that's true. Goodness knows if I'd realized how much paperwork this job entailed…I could have been a dance teacher, did I ever tell you? I double majored in social work and dance."
It was a strange revelation but somehow I could see her, tall and lithe, as a ballerina in a distant past. She still had a dancer's way of moving. How had I never guessed? It was my job to figure people out. "I had no idea," I said truthfully. "I never thought of another career, paperwork and all."
She laughed. "Of course you didn't. That's what I like about you, Lori. You know what you want and you go for it."
An odd compliment, but I accepted it graciously. I'd never seen myself as a go-getter. That was more up Cindy's alley. Had I become like her in her absence? Hadn't I sort of had to? Without her guiding me…I had to step up to the plate myself. Strange thought.
"How are you feeling?" Sherry asked. "If you're up for it, we could really use your help on the Randall case."
The Randall case. Jon had talked about it over lunch the other day. They didn't want to separate the siblings, 15-year-old Danae and 12-year-old Jamal, but no one was willing to take two older children. Right now they were staying with an uncle but he wanted nothing to do with them and was on our case to find someone else to take over.
Getting back into real casework! I had to contain my excitement.
"I'd love to, what do you need me to do?" I asked in my most professional tone.
"Meet up with Jon and Patricia," she ordered. "They've been looking over potential foster parent files on and off all week and haven't found anyone that could work yet. You have a real knack for this sort of thing, so help them sort through the files."
"I'll head over right away, thank you!"
I felt strangely like doing a victory dance to be off paperwork duty but even if I engaged in such foolishness all it would do was hurt my still-healing abdomen. Instead I walked primly over to the conference room where Jon and Patricia were surrounded by files.
Jon looked pleased to see me. "Hey, Lor. Are you on break?"
"Actually, I'm finally off paperwork duty," I said proudly. "I'm here to help."
Patricia smiled wryly and gestured to the mountains of files on the table. "Well, we could certainly use that. Sit down and grab a stack."
I settled between Jon and Patricia and got to work. It was tedious, but at least I felt like I was actually doing something. I could practically feel Jon beaming at me half the time—why was he so happy? it was weirding me out—but thankfully Patricia wasn't bothered.
I think she was just glad that she didn't have to go through as many files herself. It was pretty quiet work, other than the occasional idea that immediately got shot down.
"What about the Joneses?"
"No, they travel too much these days…"
"Ooh, the Harvilles!"
"They have dogs, Danae's allergic."
"The Picketts?"
"They already have six kids living with them."
I could see why poor Patricia was so frustrated. In the two hours I'd been there we'd shot down half the files for some reason or other and if they'd been cycling through these for days…it's a miracle she hadn't completely lost her head.
Well, she was pretty close. She pinched the bridge of her nose frequently and banged her fist on the table a few times. When that happened, I'd exchange an amused glance with Jon.
"Just ignore it," he mouthed. "You'll get used to it after a while."
I had to smother a snicker so Patricia wouldn't hear. She was definitely the wrong person for this particular duty. At least Jon kept his sighs mostly to himself. As for me, I wasn't bothered. Paperwork was much worse. At least this required a little critical thinking.