Back on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #4)(63)

Walking down the hall to the office, Alix heard Jacqueline speaking and stopped when her name was mentioned.

“I can’t believe you’d suggest something like that,” Jacqueline said, sounding irate.

Alix froze. She hadn’t come to listen in on a private conversation and yet, when she heard her own name, she couldn’t make herself leave.

A few minutes later, she realized that the person on the other end of the line was none other than Susan Turner.

“Jordan doesn’t have any such concerns, does he?” Jacqueline asked, obviously dismayed.

A pause.

“I should think not.” Jacqueline seemed satisfied with the response, whatever it was.

Alix breathed a bit easier.

“You don’t need to tell me Alix is unconventional,” Jacqueline said next. “That doesn’t mean she won’t make Jordan a good wife.”

It felt as if the floor had just dropped. So that was it. Susan didn’t think she was the right wife for her son. Alix had suspected as much and now her suspicions were confirmed.

“Of course Jordan will be a senior pastor one day,” Jacqueline said. “And Alix will—”

Whatever Jacqueline intended to say was abruptly cut off.

Alix didn’t want to hear any more of this conversation. She knew what Susan was saying and to be fair, it was a question she’d asked herself a dozen times since the engagement.

What kind of pastor’s wife would she be?

Apparently, her future mother-in-law had her doubts. Alix didn’t blame Susan Turner; she had concerns of her own in that department. Jordan was the only one who seemed convinced that she was perfect for him and his ministry.

In light of her current feelings, that was a real laugh. What had she been thinking when she agreed to marry Jordan? What was she thinking? For the past couple of years, everything had been going so well. Jacqueline and Reese had given her a step up in life. They’d provided a home and part-time employment. Not only that, Reese had helped her with tuition to culinary school. Then she’d been hired by the French Café. During that whole time, she’d been dating Jordan. And—during that whole time—she’d been blinded to the truth.

Good things don’t last. Not for women like her.

Alix had been riding a wave, but that wave had crested and she was about to be swept into shark-infested waters. Women like her, girls with her background and her past, weren’t destined for a decent life. They ended up on the street, society throwaways, refuse. No better than garbage headed for a dump.

Alix hurried into her small guesthouse and placed her hands over her ears to block out the voices that were shouting at her. This was “stinking thinking” at its worst. Those ugly, frightening demons of hate seemed relentless, determined to push her into the gutter. To punish her.

Damn, she needed a cigarette. The craving was worse than ever and she deserved one. She wanted one, she needed one, and she didn’t care if anyone saw her with it, either.

She walked down to the corner store and bought a pack, shocked at how expensive they’d gotten since she’d quit. She wasn’t even out of the store before she tore open the pack and pulled out a cigarette.

Her hands shook as she struck the match. Already she could feel a sense of calm and anticipation. Lighting the cigarette, she inhaled deeply and nearly choked. It tasted like shit.

“Damn.” She tossed it on the ground and stomped it out as if she were Smoky the Bear wiping out the first forest fire of the season.

Her cell chirped. She removed it from her purse to see who it was, frowning when Jordan’s name showed up on caller ID. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. Or anybody else, either. They’d parted on shaky ground and had ignored each other ever since. Feeling the way she did just then, Alix didn’t know what she might say.

She was tempted to turn off her cell; she didn’t but she waited a few extra minutes before she listened to her messages. There was only the one.

“Alix, it’s Jordan. Call me, all right?”

She didn’t.

He phoned again an hour later as she sat alone in her dimly lit room. And again she waited for his message.

“Alix,” he said, his voice more than a little exasperated. “I know you’re screening your calls. This is crazy. We need to talk. I’m going over to my parents’ and Mom’s invited you to dinner, too. She said there’s something she wants to talk over with us. Call me.”

Alix nearly threw the phone across the room. She knew what Susan wanted to discuss. Her. The question being raised was whether Alix would be an appropriate wife for Susan Turner’s son, the minister. The good boy who was about to marry the bad girl. Well, screw them all.

Alix fell on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. What she ought to do was pack her bags and leave. That was it. She’d walk away. Let them think what they wanted. She didn’t care anymore.

To her surprise, she fell asleep and when she woke it was dark outside. It took her a moment to recognize the sound of someone knocking. Disoriented, she sat up and let her eyes adjust to the dark before she stumbled over to the door. She turned on the light and saw Jacqueline, hands cupped around her face as she peered in through the small window.

Alix opened the door.

“Alix?” Jacqueline asked, looking worried. “Is everything all right?”

“Sure,” she said. She pushed the disheveled hair out of her face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”