Elizabeth Finn - Restoring Jordan

“I know what love means, and I love Adeline. I know how to do this. You have to trust me.” I’m practically begging her to believe in me, but my words are true and my feelings are honest. There is no question remaining in my mind I’m meant to love her, and it will be everything she deserves.

Another deep sigh later and she moves to Adeline’s desk, writing something on a notepad. Handing it to me, she continues. “Their address. She’s upset, Jordan.”

“I know.” I turn from her and move to the door, pausing once at the threshold and looking back. “She’s graduating Sunday.”

The grin that takes over her face is the response I get. “And how the hell did you manage that?”

“By loving her enough.” I smirk as my eyebrows shoot up.

As I turn to leave, her words trail after me. “Well done, Jordan.”

Five hours, one speeding ticket, and a narrow miss with the stupidest Iowa deer I’ve ever met later, and I’m pulling into her parents’ driveway. It’s dark and late evening at this point. I became turned around on the country roads three times before I managed to make it to the right road and then had to retrace my path twice before finally finding the right driveway—not easy to find much of anything out on darkened country roads without so much as a single streetlight. But the warm lights glowing within the home tell me they’re here. The house is surrounded by mature trees and fields beyond that. It’s a large two-story with a massive wraparound porch. I can’t make out much detail, but it looks beautiful in that heartland sort of way. It’s easy to imagine Adeline growing up here, swinging on the tire swing that hangs from the enormous old oak tree in front of the house, playing basketball in the driveway where the hoop hangs above the detached garage.

As I pull up and step out of my car, I take in the smell of earth. It’s dirt and growth and the sweet smell of spring flowers and rain. There’s the buzzing of crickets, and their music emanates from every direction around me. This place is alive with more life than even Chicago manages to cram within its city limits. The stars shine bright in a way I’ve never experienced, and the moon as well. I can imagine no better place than her home and this country world to give her the words I’ve withheld for so long. And yet mounting the porch steps to the front door, I’m terrified.

Have I waited too long? Have I kept her wanting for more too endlessly? My mind whirs with questions, and I’m terrified of the answers to each and every one of them, but there is one that keeps coming around to the forefront of my consciousness over and over and over again. This question is the key to all others, and I’m desperate to know this answer. Does she love me ?

I knock and wait. My palms are sweaty, and my heart is thudding with the pulse of fear. I can hear the footfalls from within as someone approaches, and for a half a second I imagine dodging off to hide behind the bushes that line the front of the porch. Her rejection may kill me, but it’s her love that will heal every last wound I carry.

As the door opens, I inhale a deep breath and hold it in my lungs. And when I see her face, the air rushes out in a loud sigh.

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes are wide and shocked.

I’m paralyzed in my fear and desperate for the reassurance of her touch. “You’re graduating.” They’re not the only words that need to be spoken, but they’re a good way to start.

“What? No, I’m…” She’s shaking her head. She doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah, you are.”

She swallows over a lump in her throat, and her eyes suddenly glisten with tears. She looks like she’s struggling to process my words. “What did you do?”

“Nothing really… It’s not the reason I’m here … I mean … it’s not the only reason I’m here.” She’s watching. Her brow is wrinkled as she fights to get hold of the situation and what I’m saying, and as one lone tear breaks loose and slips down the beautiful skin of her cheeks, I finally tell her what I’ve known in my heart for too long without saying. “Adeline, I love you.”

She shakes her head slowly. “No, you don’t.” A small, nervous laugh that is anything but amused passes her lips.

“Yeah … I really do, Addy. Really, really do.” My throat is tight with my restrained tears. Hers are not so restrained. She’s crying, and finally nodding, and she looks mildly insane … but beautiful. Convinced.

I grab her and pull her tight to me before she can stop me, and I kiss her. Her tears touch my cheeks as I claim her mouth, and when I pull from her, the same nervous laugh melts my heart. She’s as nervous as I am, but she’s happy. I hold her some more as her tears continue to fall, and after I’ve clutched her body enough to know she won’t disappear if I let her go, I pull from her and run my hand down her tear-streaked cheek. She smiles an emotionally exhausted but content smile, and relief and absolute elation course through me.

“Umm. My dad kind of wants to cut your penis off … just so you know.” She’s grimacing when she says it, and while he may not technically cut my penis off, he most likely does want to.

“Hmm. Well, he’s going to have to get over that if he ever wants grandchildren.” Now her nervous laugh catches in her throat on a loud gasp, and she’s nodding her teary face again. She likes those words … and so do I. “Would he feel better if I married you?” Still nodding away her agreement.

“Is that what you want?” She wants my reassurance. This is a piece of cake.

“Oh, yeah.”

He loves me. When he said the words, I was shocked. I’ve waited, wanted, and prayed for them, but I was still shocked. They’re simple words, really, but they were so damn hard to grasp at that moment. When I imagined him speaking these words, it was never in this way, in this place. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but whatever is? It was perfect. More perfect than any scenario or scene I’ve played out in my fantasies.

The remainder of the week before my graduation was spent with Jordan and my parents. Jordan slept in one bedroom and I in another. He respected their home and didn’t lay more than the occasional secret hand on my skin. It was torture. Complete and utter torture. My father indeed wanted to kill him, but oddly after a walk they took together where Jordan explained what it was he did to put me back in the good graces of my school, my father warmed to him. I’m sure I’m getting the watered-down version of the story, and when I ask, my father looks at him knowingly, and with an unrestrained look of admiration … even if he still wants to cut his penis off.

Jordan received a call Thursday night from a client he’s worked with in the past. Foster referred him and let the man know Jordan was now out on his own and would be the best restorative architect in the field. Jordan will now be headed back to Chicago early Saturday morning, and midafternoon Friday, after my parents leave to run errands, I finally get my hands on him.

“Adeline, I think your father might let me keep my cock if I can keep it out of you until I marry you.” He’s smiling, but there is definitely some truth to his words. When my hands find their way to his rigid shaft, he gives in, but not without one final request. “At least not in their house. Okay?”

We end up on the lawn by the tire swing. It’s hidden from the road, not that many people pass our way, by the thick lilac bushes that tinge the air with their sweet, recognizable scent. And on a blanket, he makes love to me. His eyes don’t leave mine as he watches the effect his penetration has on me, and as he sets a gentle and slow pace I push up to meet his thrusts as he bears down on me. When he rolls me to cover his body, he bites his lip and groans as I sink over his length, taking all of him within my body. We come together, and as he sits to face me and pulls my legs to wrap around him, I give him the same words he finally gave to me; it’s the promise we both need from each other. “I love you, Jordan.”