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40
CHAPTER

“Whether I am knitting for myself or someone else, my passion for knitting enables me to express my creativity and produces a feeling of accomplishment.”

—Rita E. Greenfeder, Editor, Knit ‘N Style

Magazine

LYDIA HOFFMAN

Margaret decided to go with me to the meeting with Dr. Wilson at his office. He had all the test results and medical reports back now, and there seemed to be some confusion about the diagnosis.

Notoriously closemouthed, he did mention casually when I was released from the hospital that he’d asked a colleague to review the biopsy. That news, I suspect, was meant to encourage me. But in my heart, I knew the tumor was cancerous.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” Margaret mumbled as we sat in the waiting area. It was the last appointment of the day, another sure sign of my prognosis, but I didn’t say any of this to Margaret.

Instead I leaned back and closed my eyes, wanting to block out the world. It was easy for my sister to suggest optimism. This wasn’t her life, her illness, her impending death. I couldn’t help wondering what her thoughts would’ve been had our situations been reversed. I bit back the words to remind her that she’d come running to me with her own recent scare. I was in that kind of mood right now. I could hardly keep from lashing out at the world and everyone close to me. The person who’d received the brunt of my anger, sadly, was Brad, and he was the last person who deserved it. But I refused to dwell on him or the regrets I felt whenever he crossed my mind. I’d done what I had for his own good. He would never know what it had cost me to send him away; I would carry the weight of that for the rest of my life, however short that might be.

My mother was another one I’d strived to protect. Margaret had, too. So far, we’d kept Mom in the dark. We’d concocted a story about my hospital visit having to do with a routine check-up. My mother had been all too willing to accept the lie.

Long before I was ready to confront the inevitable, Peggy came into the waiting area. This time she wasn’t holding that monstrosity of a medical file in her arms. “Dr. Wilson will see you now,” she announced.

I didn’t meet her eyes, although I heard hope and encouragement in her voice. I considered Peggy a friend, but that friendship wasn’t exclusive. She was wonderful to all of Dr. Wilson’s patients. I realized how difficult this must be for her, too. So often, she had to silently stand by and watch Dr. Wilson’s patients lose their battles with cancer. It wasn’t a position I envied.

Margaret was on her feet before I’d managed to put my magazine down and pick up my purse. I was certainly in no hurry to have my deepest fears confirmed.

Peggy led us into Dr. Wilson’s private office. His framed degrees lined the walls; he displayed a few family photos, which were artfully arranged on a credenza. The mahogany desk was polished and uncluttered, with my file set to one side. I’d been in his private office twice before, and each time I’d been devastated by his news. I didn’t expect anything different this go-round.

Dr. Wilson wasn’t in the room when we arrived, but he walked in directly behind us. My sister shook hands with him after a murmured introduction.

Dr. Wilson rolled out his big, high-back leather chair and sat down. He reached for my file, which he brought to the center of the table. He paused and then….

“The cancer is back.” I didn’t make it a question. The tumor was gone, but I was sure there’d be more, growing in areas not as accessible as this one had been.

“Is it?” Margaret asked and to my surprise her voice quavered slightly.

So often in our lives, I’ve wanted to prove to Margaret that I was right and she was wrong. Call it sibling rivalry. This time, however, I’d have given anything to be wrong.

As I’d said earlier, there was nothing to be optimistic about. The disease refused to leave my body. I opened my mouth to announce that I’d refuse treatment. I had neither the will nor the strength to face a third battle. Not without my father.

“Because of your history,” Dr. Wilson began, “I felt it was doubly important to be certain before I made a prognosis. I had the biopsy sent to the top brain cancer specialist in the country.”

I held my breath almost afraid to hope, certain the news would devastate me.

“What did he say?” Margaret asked, slipping closer to the edge of her seat.

“She agrees with me. The tumor was benign.”

“Benign,” I repeated, wanting to be sure I’d heard him correctly. The tumor was benign.

“Yes.” Dr. Wilson smiled at me but I was too shocked to react. “Everything’s going to be all right this time, Lydia. You’re cancer-free.” He stood up and walked over to an X-ray display panel on his wall. He removed two X-rays from inside an envelope and clipped them onto the lit panel. Taking out his pen, he pointed to the film. “This is the first X-ray we took and this is the one following the surgery.”

“Are you saying I won’t need radiation or chemotherapy?”

He shook his head. “No reason for it.”

I sat up straighter.

“It’s very good news, don’t you think?”

I was too numb to agree with him or even nod. Dr. Wilson’s voice faded as the realization slowly came. My life had been given back to me.

I’m not sure when I rose to my feet but suddenly I was standing. I covered my mouth and feared I was about to embarrass myself by bursting into tears. I noticed, to my astonishment, that Margaret was weeping. She rose and hugged me and started sobbing louder.

“You’re going to be all right,” she kept repeating. “Oh, Lydia, you’re going to be all right.”

Dr. Wilson was explaining a new medication he’d prescribed for me and the side effects, but nothing he said made sense just then. I was too happy to care.

Margaret and I both went from open weeping to ridiculous amusement, and our reactions were almost perfectly synchronized. Our giggles must have sounded hysterical. Margaret placed the tips of her fingers against her lips and refused to look at me. She made an effort to focus on what Dr. Wilson was trying to explain. None of it mattered. All I knew was that I had my life back. My beautiful, wonderful life was my own once again.

Not until we were outside the office did I think about Brad. “Margaret,” I said, gripping my sister by the arm as the happiness drained out of me. We stood in front of the elevator. Margaret must have heard the distress in my voice because her smile faded.

“What?”

“Brad … I was so cruel to him when all he wanted to do was help.”

Margaret was obviously struggling not to scream I told you so at me, but all she said was, “Talk to him.”

I’d missed Brad dreadfully and I longed to call him, but I couldn’t. He’d attempted to visit me twice more while I was hospitalized, but I’d refused to see him. He’d asked the nurse to deliver a letter to me. I knew if I read it he’d change my mind, so I’d asked her to take it away, sight unseen.

Later the nurse returned and told me Brad had been waiting for a reply and she’d been forced to tell him I wouldn’t read his letter. Now it all seemed melodramatic and senseless. I might well have ruined the most promising relationship of my life.

“I can try to talk to Brad, but I don’t know if he’ll listen.” I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see me again. My one hope was that he couldn’t very well ignore me when he made deliveries to my store.

Bright and early Tuesday morning, I was back in business. I can’t even begin to explain the thrill it gave me to walk into my shop and turn the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. Even the noise from the construction across the street couldn’t dampen my good mood.

Reality intruded with a list of instructions from Dr. Wilson. I was apparently a good candidate for this new drug treatment to prevent the growth of future tumors.

My morning was constantly busy as customers streamed into the store, all with questions as to why I’d been away for most of a week. It turns out that many of them had learned I was back—one person phoned another who called a third, and so forth. I can’t even describe how gratifying that was. Margaret had done her best to be helpful, keeping the store open for part of every day, but my customers were accustomed to dealing with me.

Margaret seemed to have enjoyed working at the store. As little as three months ago, I couldn’t have imagined thinking warmly of my older sister. I was deeply appreciative of everything she’d done for me.

At noon, when I had my first lull of the day, I glanced anxiously out the shop windows, hoping for a glimpse of Brad. When the big brown truck rolled to a stop in front of the floral shop, I nearly raced out the door. But the UPS driver wasn’t Brad.

“Where’s Brad?” I blurted out.

The replacement glanced over his shoulder at the abruptness of my question. “Brad is no longer on this route.”

“What do you mean he’s no longer on this route?” I demanded. It felt as if the sidewalk had started to buckle beneath my feet. I couldn’t believe Brad would do anything as drastic as this.

“Brad’s delivering in the downtown area now.”

I knew what had happened. “He requested a transfer, didn’t he?”

The UPS driver shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about that. Sorry.”

“Do you ever see him?” I asked, hoping to use the other man to relay a message.

“Not much.” He was preoccupied, and I was clearly detaining him, so I returned to my store, my steps dragging.

I knew that what I’d done to Brad was wrong. I’d badly hurt the one person who’d proved himself to me over and over. All I could do was hope it wasn’t too late to make amends.

41
CHAPTER

JACQUELINE DONOVAN

“Jacqueline.”

Her name seemed to come from far away.

“Jacqueline.” It was louder this time and she recognized Reese’s voice. Her eyes flew open and she stared up in the darkness to find her husband standing over her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. Something drastic must have happened for Reese to enter her bedroom in the middle of the night

“Paul just phoned—Tammie Lee’s in labor.”

“Now?”

“When did a baby ever decide to arrive at a decent hour?”

He obviously didn’t expect a response and she didn’t give him one. “What did Paul say?”

“Just that he’s been at the hospital since ten.”

A quick glance at her clock told her it was nearly five.

“She’s close to delivery,” her husband finished.

Jacqueline didn’t hesitate. She tossed aside the comforter and automatically reached for her robe.

“You actually want to go to the hospital?” Reese sounded surprised.

“Of course.” He could do as he damn well pleased and, as a matter of fact, had for the last twelve years of their marriage. But nothing he said would keep her away from the birth of her granddaughter. Already Jacqueline had thrust her feet into her slippers and started toward her bathroom.

“I’m coming, too,” Reese announced as if he anticipated an argument.

“Do whatever you want.”

He ignored her petulant remark. “Don’t take long,” he warned. “From what Paul said, it could be any time now.”

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes.” In the best of circumstances, that was a stretch, but Jacqueline was determined to keep her word. Exactly thirteen minutes later, she met Reese who sat in the car waiting. He had the garage door open and the engine running, ready to go.

They were silent on the ride to the hospital and Jacqueline wondered if his thoughts were the same as hers. It’d been on a night such as this that he’d rushed her to the hospital to deliver Paul. Her water had broken in the middle of the night and in a panic, fearing any movement might endanger the baby, she’d clung to Reese. Her one concern was to keep the cord from tangling around the baby’s neck.

In true heroic fashion, Reese had swept her into his arms, carried her to the car and driven to the hospital. Fortunately, there was virtually no traffic, since he took the corners at a speed any racecar driver might have envied. Then her hero had carried her into the hospital waiting area. Reese had stayed with her until Paul entered the world. Closing her eyes, she could still hear her son’s first high-pitched wail. At the time, it had been the most glorious sound she’d ever heard.

When they arrived at the hospital, they parked quickly. Together, walking side by side, they hurried into the lobby and were directed to the birthing center on the fifth floor.

At the reception desk, Reese gave their names to the nurse, who suggested they take a seat in the waiting room. While Jacqueline sorted through the magazines, Reese went to see if he could round them up a cup of coffee.

He returned five minutes later with two steaming cups. “It came out of a machine,” he said with a shrug.

At this point, Jacqueline didn’t care as long as it was hot and contained caffeine.

They sat two chairs apart in the deserted room and sipped their tasteless coffee. Half an hour and three magazines later, Paul appeared, wearing a light-blue hospital gown. He looked tired, but his eyes smiled when he saw them.

“Tammie Lee’s doing just great,” he told them. “The baby should be here within the hour.”

“Great.”

“Do you want to come in for the actual birth?” he asked.

“Me?” Jacqueline shook her head. This was a private moment between her son and his wife, and she didn’t want to intrude. Not to mention that births were messy …

“Of course. If you want,” Paul said, his expression filled with excitement. “Tammie Lee said you were welcome to be there, Mom.”

Jacqueline couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her son so happy. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather wait here, but you will let me know as soon as the baby’s born, won’t you?”

“You and Dad will be the first to know.”

Paul returned to Tammie Lee then, and it was just Jacqueline and Reese again. They ignored each other, sipping their coffee and thumbing through old magazines.

“Do you remember the night Paul was born?” Reese asked her unexpectedly.

Jacqueline laughed. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“I was so proud of you that night.”

“For giving you a son, you mean?”

“No … well, yes, I was happy to have a son, but I would’ve been equally pleased with a daughter.” Jacqueline nodded.

“What I meant was, you impressed me with your courage and determination.”

He sounded unaccountably serious, but Jacqueline had difficulty believing he’d ever been “impressed” with her. It struck her as an odd word to use.

“I remember how the other women in the labor room moaned and carried on and asked for drugs, but not you. Not my Jacquie.”

Dignified even in the face of unyielding labor pains—that was her, all right. Jacqueline knew he intended it as a compliment and sent him a brief smile. “Despite the pain, it was one of the best nights of my life.”

“Because of Paul.”

Jacqueline lowered her gaze. “Actually, no. Because of you.”

“Me?” He gave a clipped laugh, as if he didn’t quite believe her, either. She wondered when they’d started to doubt each other and then she knew. It had been about the time he’d begun his affair.

“As we were driving here I was remembering the night Paul was born.”

Reese nodded. “I was thinking about that myself.”

“Do you recall the way you carried me to the car? It was such a … swashbuckling thing to do. I wasn’t exactly a lightweight at the time.”

“Your hero,” Reese teased.

Sadness seemed to weigh her down. “You were my hero,” she whispered and to cover up how wretched she felt, she sipped the last of her coffee.

“But no more,” Reese murmured.

Her lack of response was as clear as agreement would have been. She looked away, struggling with her composure. A part of her wanted to ask why he found her so lacking that he’d turned to another woman, but the pain of it was too great. She feared that whatever he might tell her would hurt even more than knowing he was with someone else.

He didn’t say anything or glance in her direction.

It occurred to her then, sitting in this hospital waiting room with Reese, that perhaps this was the very moment she should say something. Perhaps she should offer an overture, try to bridge this gap between them. She’d loved Reese so much at one time. Oh damn, she might as well admit it: despite everything, she still loved him. Seeing the love Paul and Tammie Lee shared was almost painful for her because she recognized how much she’d lost. To outward appearances she lived a wonderful life. She didn’t need to worry about money, she had a lovely house, her friends were plentiful. Nevertheless, she was miserable and lonely.

“I …” Reese said when the distinct sound of a baby’s cry traveled down the hallway.

Startled, they stared at each other.

“Do you think that’s her?” Jacqueline asked, surging to her feet.

“I don’t know.” Reese was standing now, too.

“Maybe we should ask the nurse?” she suggested.

Reese took her by the elbow and they walked to the nurses’ station.

“We just heard an infant cry,” Reese told the woman, giving her their names.

“We were wondering if that could possibly be our granddaughter,” Jacqueline added, keeping her voice hushed so she wouldn’t disturb others.

“I’ll check for you,” she said, and disappeared into one of the birthing rooms. She was gone only a few moments; when she returned, she carried two light-blue gowns. “Put these on, and you can join your family.”

Jacqueline didn’t hesitate and neither did Reese. When they were ready, the woman led them into the birthing room. This was nothing like the room where Jacqueline had delivered Paul all those years ago. Sofa, chairs, television and even a large swirling bathtub. Goodness, if she hadn’t known better, Jacqueline would’ve thought she’d walked into a hotel suite.

Tammie Lee was in bed, smiling over at Paul who held their baby girl. Her daughter-in-law’s face was red, her hair matted with sweat, and tears glistened in her eyes, but she’d never looked lovelier, Jacqueline thought.

“Mom and Dad,” Paul said, gently cradling the bundled infant in his arms. “This is Amelia Jacqueline Donovan.”

All at once it felt as if Jacqueline’s heart had stopped beating. She blinked back unexpected tears. “You named her after me?”

“Amelia was my grandmother’s name and we chose Jacqueline because we both love you,” Tammie Lee said.

The tears rolled unrestrained down Jacqueline’s cheeks as she gazed down on this precious child named in her honor.

“Would you like to hold your granddaughter, Mom?” Paul asked.

Jacqueline nodded as silent tears of joy burned her face. Her son placed the baby in her arms. Unusual though it seemed, Jacqueline was sure little Amelia opened her eyes and looked directly up at her. Invisible threads linked their hearts and in that moment, she knew she was going to love this child more than life itself. She smiled at Tammie Lee through her tears. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. Then she glanced at Reese and noticed he had tears in his eyes, too.

Very gently, her husband bent down and kissed Amelia’s forehead. After a brief pause, he kissed Jacqueline’s cheek.

“Now you have the daughter you always wanted,” he whispered.

Not until much later in the day, after Jacqueline had bought out the baby sections at three department stores, did she realize what her husband had really been saying.

Reese hadn’t been talking about Amelia. He’d meant Tammie Lee.

42
CHAPTER

ALIX TOWNSEND

“You like Jordan, don’t you?” Laurel asked Alix early Wednesday morning. Alix was getting ready for work.

Like Jordan? That was an understatement if ever there was one. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You trust him?”

She nodded, and then shrugged. “Sure.” Quickly her suspicions rose. “Do you know a reason I shouldn’t?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking?” she demanded.

“I don’t know…. I guess I’m hoping you learned from my mistake. You tried to tell me John was no good, but I wouldn’t listen and now look at me,” she muttered, her bitterness so intense it soured her words.

As for looking at Laurel, all Alix could see was a grossly overweight girl with stringy blond hair who sat on her ass in front of the TV most days. But as long as Laurel made her share of the rent payment, Alix didn’t care how she spent her days. She’d quit two jobs, the video store and the day care center, and was currently working at a dry cleaner. She hadn’t lasted a month at the day care center and said she’d hated it.

“When you and Jordan went out on that fancy dinner date, what did you talk about?” her roommate pressed.

Laurel had certainly taken an interest in Jordan all of a sudden. “I don’t know,” she returned flippantly. “Stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Why all the interest?” Alix was surprised she was even having a conversation with her roommate, but she wasn’t really comfortable with the subject.

“I mean, what do you talk about with a minister?”

“Youth minister,” she corrected. “I knew him when we were in grade school, you know. He’s just like everyone else.” More than once he’d proven he was human—in temperament and in the easy passion that flared between them. So far, everything had been kept under control, but Alix knew she tempted him as much as he tempted her. Jordan might work for the church, but he was very much a man.

“Tell me what you talked about, okay?” Laurel insisted. She seemed close to tears. Alix couldn’t imagine why this was so important.

“I told him I wanted to be a chef one day or have my own catering company. We talked about me getting into a good cooking school—not that it’s ever likely.” That was only a small part of their conversation. Jordan had a gift for drawing people out and making them feel as if they were the center of the universe.

“You want to be a chef?”

Alix shrugged. This shouldn’t be any newsflash to Laurel who’d lived with her for the past year. Any real cooking had been done by her; Laurel had specialized in stocking the kitchen with ice cream, toaster waffles and potato chips. But then Alix realized they’d never taken the time to be more than roommates. Until recently, she’d never really confided her hopes and dreams in Laurel—or in anyone, she supposed. Alix had few friends, although she felt a connection with the women in her knitting class.

Ever since her breakup with the used-car salesman, Laurel had spent most of her time alone. Her self-pity had quickly irritated Alix. She didn’t consider the relationship any big loss, but apparently Laurel thought otherwise.

“Does he know about your mother?” Laurel asked next.

The fact that her mother was currently serving time in the Women’s Correctional Center at Purdy wasn’t a fact Alix willingly broadcast. “I told him.” There was little Jordan didn’t know about her. She didn’t want any unpleasant surprises in their relationship. He knew her mother had gone to prison for the attempted murder of Alix’s father, too.

“Do you ever think about her?”

“Not much.” Alix found all these questions mildly annoying, but Laurel had been so moody lately that she wanted to encourage her to continue chatting.

“Do you love her?”

“My mother?” That question took some real soul-searching, but she was determined to be honest. If she was, then maybe Laurel would be honest with her. “I suppose I do. I don’t have any contact with her because when she writes, all she wants from me is money or cigarettes. She never asks about me or shows any interest in my life. I don’t need her.” She said this in a casual way, as if it was well understood that she didn’t need anyone. “My only worry is that one day I’ll end up just like her.”

“Not you,” Laurel said with complete confidence. “You’re too strong for that.”

Alix didn’t see herself as strong, but it pleased her that Laurel thought so.

“You’d never let anyone hurt you or use you the way John used me,” she whispered.

“Get over him,” Alix said for the thousandth time. She couldn’t understand why Laurel had clung to a man who’d treated her so abominably. It didn’t make sense, especially when she hadn’t seen any sign of him in months.

Laurel looked away.

“You need to get out more,” Alix told her.

Her roommate sighed unhappily. “I don’t like anyone to see me when I’m so fat.”

“Then stop eating.”

“You make it sound easy, but it isn’t, you know. It’s hard to stop.”

“Then take a walk every day. Walk instead of taking the bus. You’ll be surprised at how quickly the fat will melt away with a little exercise.”

“Like you know anything about needing to lose weight! You’re perfect.”

Alix hadn’t realized her roommate had such a high opinion of her figure, but she was far from having a perfect body.

“Do you think you’ll marry Jordan?”

Alix brushed aside the question with a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, right.” She grabbed her purse on the way to the door, but hesitated after twisting the knob. “Promise me you’ll get out today. It doesn’t do any good to sit around here and mope.”

“All right.”

Alix had just stepped out when Laurel stopped her. “Alix, thank you.”

“For what?”

The question had apparently caught Laurel off guard. “For being my friend.”

“Sure. No problem.”

It seemed odd for Laurel to thank her, but Alix let the comment slide as she headed for the video store. Without Laurel there to keep her company, the days dragged. She felt guilty now that she hadn’t talked to her roommate lately. In her own estimation, Alix hadn’t been a good friend, but then Laurel had been pretty unpleasant, so she’d avoided her as much as possible. Any time Alix had tried to talk to her, which wasn’t often, Laurel had put her off. Her roommate’s one solace seemed to be ice cream. Alix considered her weak-willed, but now she saw how easy it was to judge. That morning’s conversation was the first they’d had in weeks, and she was feeling more sympathetic toward her.

During her lunch break, Alix returned to the apartment, hoping to coax Laurel out. Maybe Laurel would be inclined to exercise if Alix offered to walk with her. To her surprise, Laurel wasn’t there. She didn’t keep tabs on Laurel’s work schedule, and her hours seemed to change from week to week. Either Laurel was at work right now or she’d taken Alix’s advice.

On the off-chance that Laurel was out walking, Alix started down Blossom Street, hoping to run into her. When she did find Laurel, however, she wasn’t alone.

Jordan was with her.

They sat on a park bench in a shady area of the church grounds. Their heads were close together and they seemed engrossed in conversation.

Alix’s initial reaction was anger, followed by a surge of jealousy. All those questions about Jordan had been a way of finding out about him so she could steal him away. Alix was half-tempted to march over and let it be known that she didn’t appreciate her roommate butting in on her boyfriend. This was what she got for sympathizing with Laurel, for making an effort to help her.

Then she watched as her roommate broke into tears, buried her face in her hands and hunched forward. Jordan placed his hand on her back, and although Alix was too far away to hear, it looked like he was praying with her.

This was one of the qualities she loved about Jordan. There didn’t seem to be anything she couldn’t tell him. He genuinely cared for people and longed to comfort them. She had no right to be jealous. Nor did she have a single reason to doubt Jordan. Not once had he misled her or abused their friendship.

They’d talked about the meaning of trust and after the incident with the pastor’s daughter, he’d asked her to trust him. It’d been easy to assure him she did—but at the time he wasn’t touching her roommate. Determined to put her promise into action, she turned away and went back to work.

Just before closing, Jordan came to the video store. “How about a coffee when you’re through?” he said.

“Sure.” She couldn’t help the burst of happiness she felt.

He suggested they meet at Annie’s Café and she agreed. He was in a booth, with two cups of coffee waiting by the time Alix joined him.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Fine. How about yours?” She gave him a sharp look, despite everything she’d promised herself earlier. If he’d been talking to Laurel, she wanted to know why.

Jordan didn’t answer right away. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“Should I?” She tried to make a joke of it, then decided that wasn’t fair. Holding her mug with both hands, she stared down at the steaming coffee. “I saw you and Laurel earlier.”

Jordan didn’t offer an explanation. “That bothers you?”

She shrugged. “It did at first, but then I thought … well, that’s your business, not mine. I don’t have any hold on you.”

“You’re only partially right.”

“How’s that?”

He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. His mouth gently grazed the inside of her palm. “You have a very strong hold on my heart.”

“Oh.” From any other man it would have sounded corny, but not Jordan. “Are you going to tell me what you and Laurel were talking about?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Are you going to trust me?”

She stared at him hard and long. Every instinct demanded that she find out what she could. Yet at the same time, she longed to believe him. Finally, with a smile, she nodded.

She hoped it was the right decision. Because a betrayal by Jordan would hurt more than any other betrayal she’d suffered in her whole life.