“Will you miss me?” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek.
When she didn’t answer, he kissed her, a bare touching of lips.
“Well?”
“Maybe. Just a little.” Her voice shook.
“Well, don’t fret, darlin’.” He leaned back and grinned. “It’s only a business trip. I’ll return in a few days.”
Tori shoved at his chest before she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her face flushed, and her fists planted firmly on her hips.
Jesse bit his lip to keep from laughing outright. “Gonna give me a kiss goodbye?” Her face flared fire, then froze like ice. But something else flashed briefly in her eyes besides anger. Relief that he truly wasn’t leaving for good? All of a sudden, he didn’t want to go anywhere.
“Go away.” She waved him off with a flick of her wrist.
“Come on, honey, one more kiss.” If he didn’t leave soon, he would take her right there on the kitchen floor. And he had a train to catch.
She leaned forward and pointed her finger at his face. “Go away, and don’t feel it’s necessary to hurry back on my account.”
He gave her a small salute and left through the front door, stopping to retrieve his satchel. His spirits lifted at her response. Definitely something to investigate when he returned. He needed to get to the train, and get this unpleasant business over with.
The wheels screeched like an animal in pain as the train pulled into the St. Louis station.
God, I hate this place.
Jesse dragged in a breath and cast a glance around. Memories of a small boy, tortured by schoolmates and ignored by his mother, flooded over him as he walked through the dirty train station. Only the necessity of having to deal with his mother’s death could bring him to where he’d spent a very unhappy childhood.
He’d received the wire yesterday. Rosie was dead. The authorities wanted to know if he would bury her, or if she should be laid to rest in a potter’s field.
He rolled his shoulders and headed south. A short walk from the station brought him to the area of town that housed the whores. Determined to do this last thing for the woman who’d given him life, and not much else, he pushed open the door of the shabby hotel.
Tori glanced at the locked door of Jesse’s office as she walked to school. A slight smile tugged at her lips at the memory of their conversation yesterday. It scared her how upset she’d felt when he’d announced he was leaving. She hoped she’d hidden her distress from him.
She still needed time to sort ou
t her feelings where he was concerned. The gut reaction to his announcement told her what she was afraid to think about. Jesse had wormed his way into her heart. Sweat dotted her brow, having nothing to do with the weather.
Was she ready to even think about getting involved? No. She only felt bereft because he’d been such an anchor for her. That was all. The relief that he wasn’t leaving permanently was simply that. Happiness that she would still have his friendship. Nothing more. Friendship.
As her thoughts edged toward a frightening conclusion, she breathed deeply of the warm summer air and began planning what she’d fix for supper.
Early the next morning, Jesse stood at the hotel window and stared at the bright sunlight that didn’t allow any ugliness to hide. Dragging in a breath, he scanned the area. It was all there, just as he remembered, unsightly and poor. The streets that formed his childhood. He hadn’t been in this section of town in years.
The small red brick building that housed the school sat across the street. His stomach clenched. There he’d had a sketchy education at best. It wasn’t easy being the child of the local whore.
Heavy, humid air made walking across the room seem like swimming. When he reached the small lumpy bed, he plopped down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He checked his watch, time to leave. He got up, grabbed his jacket and left the room.
Two soiled doves and Jesse were the only mourners at the gravesite. He threw a fistful of dirt on Rosie’s grave. He should feel something. This was his mother. Only an empty hole resided where feelings for his mother should have been.
The preacher read some verses from the Bible. Since the man had never known Rosie, there wasn’t a whole lot he could say.
Jesse’s mind wandered to all the Sunday mornings he’d stood outside the church and watched the families coming out. All dressed in nice clothes, mothers and fathers beaming at their children. Why couldn’t he have a life like that? His young brain assumed he’d done something wrong for Rosie to ignore him, and for there to be no father to take him to church and pat him on the head like the other fathers did. Eventually, he’d fade into the background and go on home. To the whorehouse.
“Jesse, I can’t believe how handsome you are.” Daisy, one of the prostitutes who’d mothered him when he was a child, sauntered up as the preacher closed his book and left.
Was there even an answer to that statement?
“It’s good to see you, Daisy.” It was scary how easy the lie came.