12

"Owen," Jem breaks away.

He opened his eyes breathlessly, his face still centimeters from hers, "What is it, Jemmy?"

She gets off his lap, looking down at him now as she leans against the back of the pew. 

"I need to go home..."

"I can drive you--"

"I have my bike."

He smirks, "It's dark, just let me take you."

She doesn't know what to say. Just a few seconds ago they were breathlessly and passionately kissing, and now he's asking to drive her home like usual. How is he so normal about this?

"I can't make you do that for me."

"You think you're making me?"

She doesn't answer and neither of them say anything, but look at each other until Jem remembers to breath.

"Stay a bit longer, Jem."

Her voice catches in her throat when she tries to speak but she recovers enough to say a small 'okay.' and he takes her hand, leading her to his office.

He opens the door, motioning for her to enter, then shuts it behind him.

She stands in the middle of his office awkwardly, feeling out of place. No matter how many times she'd been in his office, something about tonight felt different. Too private, too intimate. She relished in it.

He walks around her to his desk, "Did I ever show you the souvenirs I brought from Puerto Rico?" He asked, rummaging through a drawer.

Jem was still caught off guard by his abruptness, taking a while to answer, "Um, no-- no you haven't."

"I think you might like one of 'em," he glances up at her briefly, offering her a soft smile which she couldn't help but return.

After a little while he lets out a satisfied sigh and lifts a small floral box, walking over to the couch.

He looks at her, confused, "What are you standing for? C'mere." He nods to the spot next to him. 

She hesitates but sits down anyway, trying to calm her nerves.

He scoots closer to her so that she can get a better look at what he's holding, "Look at this one," he holds out a little, colorfully painted mask with horns.

"What is it?" she says, quietly curious. Her voice sounded so distant when she spoke, as if she wasn't meant to talk for days after what had just happened between them. A question like that was so mundane, so unimportant, it was silly.

He looks at her with a soft expression, "It's called a vejigante mask," He takes her hand and places it in her palm, "It's part of some tradition of theirs. People will wear them during parades and stuff. I thought this one looked pretty neat."

"Hm," she studies it as he watches her, "Vee-- hanteh?" She tries to pronounce it, looking at him for affirmation.

he nods, "Yeah, and I think it's meant to be like a clown or something. Doesn't look a lot like the ones we have here, right?"

She hums a response, looking back down at it.

"I got a few different ones if you wanna take a look."

"Okay."

"But first I have this one, I wanted to show you. I thought you might like it." He looks through the box a little more and pulls out a wooden figurine, taking the mask from her hand and replacing it.

"These they call Santos de Palo and some of the people there will put them around their houses like decoration. This one is of Jesus' mother, Mary. They're very Catholic there so a lot of them were of her."

"She's beautiful," Jem traced her thumb over the delicate carvings. She wore a sad, rosy-cheeked expression, with her hands held together in prayer, laced with a string of beads.

"I thought so too," He glances up at her and she looks back.

"You can keep her if you like."

She holds it back out to him, "I couldn't."

"Yeah, you could. I'd like you to."

"Okay."

A pause. He stands back up, walking over to his desk and pulling out a gold colored box.

"I found a candy shop there. You wanna try one?" he says, sitting back down next to her, making the couch sink slightly, unintentionally moving her closer to him.

She gives him a skeptical look, "Why are you giving me this stuff?"

He shrugs, "What d'you mean?"

She shook her head, "Nevermind. Yeah I'll have one."

He handed the box over and she unwrapped the plastic covering, removing a red bow that was tied around it. But as she was taking the cover off she stopped herself again.

"If you're doing this because you feel bad or something, please don't."

He took a breath, clenching his jaw but not giving her an answer.

Jem sighed. Of course that was the reason. He felt guilty and now he was likely going to ignore her until his next mission trip to Puerto Rico, or until she and Ben-- but that was too unbelievable now. How could she marry him after this? She would never be able to face Owen, even more than she couldn't face Ben. It was possible to keep him oblivious to everything but with Owen... And how could she ever get over the shame?

"Owen..." She whispered, "I won't make this any worse for you, you can act like it never happened if that's the way it needs to be and--"

"I don't want it to be that way," He cut in, looking at her desperately, "It doesn't have to be and I can't handle it being that way, Jem."

"This isn't okay," she exasperates, "You're married to Misty and I'm--I'm courting your brother.--"

"It can't be wrong, Jemmy. I've been praying on it for a while and I just don't see how it can be any other way. I need you, Jem and-- and I think this is God's plan for us, I truly do."

"You mean you don't feel guilty?"

"At first I did, for feeling this way for--" He stops himself, "Well, I did. But I don't anymore and I think it's a sign."

"What about Misty?"

"Misty and I were never supposed to be married. You know as well as I that this stuff was chosen for me, not by me. We fight all the time and she makes me dread everything that's coming but with you---" he wipes a hand over his mouth, "With you, Jem, I feel so much and I see so much for you. Whenever you're there it's like, I don't know, you understand and you're-- Jem, you're intelligent and kind, and all these other things you don't even realize, and I want you to-- I want to be the one to show you."

She could hardly breath, she couldn't believe the words he was saying. Never did she imagine Owen felt this way for her but now he was saying it, plain and simple, and she still couldn't believe it.

"What about this stuff," she gestured to the chocolates and Mary figure, "Why are you giving me these except to make up for something?"

He lets out an exasperated snort, "Can't I just give you things? Does everything have to have an ulterior motive for you?"

"No it's just... It's a lot at once I guess."

"It has to be a lot, Jem. I've been dishonest with you for too long and I need to show you what this means to me. I need you to know what you mean to me."

"So my worth is a doll and some chocolate?" she snorts.

He gives her a dark look, the corner of his mouth quirking up, "Don't tease, Jemmy. You know what I mean."

"Sorry, you aren't very good at making yourself clear," She smirked.

"Yeah?" He reaches a hand over to her face, cupping the side of it, "I'll have to work on that."