Love and Landscape (Rockland Falls Book 3)

by Lacey Black

  “Well, if this isn’t a pleasant surprise. Twice in one day.”

  “Hey, Mom.” I shove my hands into my pockets.

  “Is everything all right? Max?” she asks, coming toward me across the porch.

  “No, no. Everyone’s fine. Max is fine,” I reassure her.

  Mom covers her heart with her hand, as if trying to compose herself. “Oh, okay. Well, good. Come have a seat,” she offers, going to the porch swing and taking a seat.

  My feet are leaded, my legs wooden, as I make my way over to the where she sits. We’re both quiet for a few minutes, both lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I speak. “I saw him today.”

  Mom doesn’t reply for a few long seconds before asking, “Oh?”

  “It was a mess. After you left Kate’s, we went back to cleaning the library and office. Aunt Emma dropped a book and a few papers spilled out. They were letters.” I tell her everything that happened afterwards, from calming Kate to going and confronting Dad.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, after a few moments of silence.

  “Am I okay? What about you? Are you okay?” I ask, completely flabbergasted Mom seems so calm about the entire situation.

  “Oh, Jensen, I’m fine. I’ve come to peace with what happened in our marriage and how it ended.”

  “But…he cheated on you. You forgave him for that?”

  Mom sighs. “It took a while, Jensen, I’m not going to lie. I was angry for a long time, but do you know what? He left me with the best part of him. You. Your brother and sisters. Was it hard? Most days I didn’t want to get out of bed, but I did because of you. You all needed me. I picked my heart up off the floor and put it into this place and into raising you all. Do I hate he left us? Absolutely. Am I saddened you all barely have a relationship with him because of his actions? More than anything. But am I still upset and crying over him leaving? No. We can’t change our path in life, only adapt to the twists and turns. I adapted, and in the process, forgave him. I was able to move on.”

  I glance her way, hearing her words and seeing the smile on her face.

  “Besides, it’s his loss, Jensen. He doesn’t get to play catch with Max or see the smiles on his daughters’ faces when they talk about their loves.”

  I clear my throat. “He asked if he could call me or visit sometime.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “I told him I’d think about it.”

  She looks me square in the eye. “And I hope you do. For you and for Max. No one is perfect, Jensen. He’s made mistakes. If he’s finally ready to own up to them, I think you owe it to yourself to consider forgiving him. For you, not for him. It’s gotta be for you.”

  Moving my arm so it’s resting on her shoulder, I pull her into my side. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?” I tease, loving I can still make my mom laugh after such a serious conversation.

  “I do know,” she assures me, drawing my own laugh from my gut.

  “I’ll think about calling him,” I tell her, knowing I honestly will. I do miss my dad, more than anything. Knowing my mom has moved on and forgiven him for his affairs is a step toward mending our severed relationship. “I can’t say we’ll be best buds or anything, but I do want to let go of the hostility I’ve been carrying for all these years. And I want Max to know his grandpa.”

  Mom squeezes my leg in support. “You’ll get there. Go at your own pace.”

  I pull her head toward mine and kiss the side of her forehead. We sit there and swing for a few more minutes, both of us lost in our own thoughts. For me, I think about my dad and the years we’ve lost following his infidelity. I was an angry teenager, directing all of my rage toward him for tearing apart our family. And while those feelings were completely valid, it’s been many years. I’m tired of carrying the baggage on my shoulders. I’m ready to let it go. Will I forgive him? Maybe. Maybe not. Only time will tell.

  “Any chance you have any of that chocolate zucchini bread left?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kathryn

  “This is the perfect spot,” I tell Max as we admire his painting hanging prominently over the couch in the entertainment room.

  “Do you like it?” the young boy asks, his baby blues full of hope and excitement.

  “It’s the best baseball field with flowers I’ve ever seen,” I assure him, crouching down and giving him a hug. “I love that you gave it to me. Thank you.”

  “In here, I can come see it all the time when I play games.” His smile radiates like a lighthouse in the night sky.

  “You sure can. You’re welcome to come over and play games and watch television in here anytime, Max.”

  “You called me Max,” he giggles, catching the fact I didn’t go with one of the alternative versions of his name this time.

  “I’m sorry, my mistake, Maxarena.”

  His contagious laughter fills the room and my heart. “That’s not a real name,” he insists through his happy giggles.

  I can’t help but chuckle too. “No, it’s not, Just Max.” He yawns. “You’ve had a long day, my friend.”

  “Am I spending the night here?” he asks, innocently.

  Glancing at my watch, I realize Jensen has been gone several hours. It’s early evening and probably a bit past the appropriate time to feed Max dinner. I know we have some leftovers in the kitchen I can heat up, but I wish Jensen would call or text. I have no clue what’s going on or how long he’ll be. Emma and Orval went up a while ago to rest and I expect them to come down soon for dinner.

  “I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “Why don’t we go see if we can find a snack?”

  “Okay,” he replies, sticking his little hand inside of mine and allowing me to lead him from the entertainment room and to the kitchen.

  I help him sit on a stool at the island and head over to the fridge. “How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” I ask, knowing all kids like those, right?

  “I wove them!”

  “One PB and J coming up!” I state, pulling the ingredients out of the fridge and pantry. It only takes me a minute to whip up a sandwich for him, cut into fourths the way I remember Rosie, my childhood nanny, used to do. I retrieve the gallon of milk from the fridge next. It’s skim milk, but I think I can find a bottle of chocolate to help mask the different taste.

  “Thank you,” Max says as he takes a drink of the chocolate milk. He has jelly smeared on his cheek, but he seems happy and enjoying his sandwich.

  It’s when I’m contemplating making myself a sandwich that I hear the front door open and close. Before I can head in that direction, Jensen comes into view, a hesitant smile on his gorgeous face. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” I reply, standing up straight and giving him my own grin. “Everything okay?”

  He nods. “It will be.”

  “Hi, Daddy! Kate maked me a sandwich,” Max says, taking another big bite.

  “Made you a sandwich, and that’s very nice of Kate. Were you a good boy while I was gone?” Jensen asks, coming over and kissing his son on the forehead.

  Max nods insistently. “I finished my painting! We hungded it where the big TV is!”

  “Hung it,” his dad corrects. “And I can’t wait to see it.”

  “Finish your sandwich and we’ll show him,” I insist, cleaning up the crumbs I left on the counter from cutting the sandwich.

  Jensen comes up behind me, his warm arms caging me to the countertop. “Thank you,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling my neck.

  “It was no problem. He’s a wonderful little boy,” I tell him, turning my neck ever so slightly as his lips skim over my sensitive skin.

  “He is,” Jensen practically grunts. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest, my back to his front.

  “Is everything okay? Really?”

  Jensen exhales loudly. “I have some things I need to tell you, but not tonight. I need to get Max home and in the bathtub. He has school tomorrow and it’s Ashley’s turn to pick him up. Can I c
ome by after work tomorrow night?” he asks, sitting his chin to rest on my shoulder.

  “Sure. I can make dinner,” I offer, trying to mask my nervousness.

  “No, I’ll bring something. I don’t want you to have to worry about cooking,” he suggests, making me worry a little more.

  “Okay,” I reply, cautiously.

  After Max shows his dad the painting, they gather up his few belongs and get ready to head out. I don’t want them to but don’t invite them to stay. If Ashley is giving them a hard time about me, finding out they both spent the night would probably cause even more problems. Instead, I walk them to his truck and tell them goodbye.

  “Bye, Just Max,” I say as the little boy wraps his still-sticky hands around my waist and hugs me tightly.

  “Bye, Kate! I’ll see you soon,” he says. His happy-go-lucky demeanor brings unshed tears to my eyes and a fond smile to my face.

  When Jensen has him buckled into the seat, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me soundly. “I can tell there are a lot of things going through your head right now. Yes, I have some things to tell you, but it doesn’t change us. It doesn’t change who I am or who you are, and it definitely doesn’t impact what we are together.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, gripping the back of his T-shirt as he pulls me tightly against his taut chest.

  “See you tomorrow,” he assures me, placing his lips on my forehead and turning and heading to get in his truck. I feel the loss of his body heat immediately.

  I wave goodbye as they head down the long driveway, until I can no longer see the truck. A deep sadness sweeps in, a longing to spend more time in their presence. I love Jensen, and I love Max. The thought of being separated from them, even for the night causes my chest to tighten with sorrow.

  Back inside, I make a sandwich, enjoying a quick peanut butter and jelly, just like I had as a child. There’s a smile on my face the entire time. After the dishes are cleaned up, I head back to the library. The piles of paperwork are gone, except for the box that will need to be shredded. Emma and Orval both pop in for a second, but they’re on their way to enjoy their last evening with Mary Ann.

  That’s another thing I’ll miss. The sounds of having guests with me.

  I decide to paint. While I spent a little time yesterday cleaning the canvas and adding a few simple touches, I have this deep-rooted desire to finish Jensen’s painting. It’s more than twelve years overdue. So I pull out a handful of shades of blue and green and set out to work on the ocean landscape.

  For the next hour, I watch the reflection of the sun setting off the ocean and the waves crash on the beach. I pull in the darker, more mysterious waters toward the edges of the painting, opting to see a moonlight reflection like I’m witnessing tonight. I’m just completing the waterscape when the doorbell rings. Realizing I must have locked the front door, I hop off my stool and make a mad dash for the entryway. When I reach the door, I turn the lock and pull it open, presuming to find Emma and Orval. Instead, I find the one woman I never expect.

  My mother.

  “Well, I see your manners haven’t improved any,” she says, sweeping her perfectly styled hair off her forehead. “Are you going to invite me in?”

  With a quick shake of my head, I step back, pulling the door open farther to allow her to enter. “Of course, my apologies.”

  Mom strolls past me, a cloud of expensive perfume trailing in her wake as she glances around the freshly painted and decorated foyer. “Well, this is…different.”

  I shake out of my surprised stupor and shut the door. “It is different, yes. What are you doing here, Mother?” I ask trying to head her off before she continues on to the rest of the house.

  She stops and gives me a look. It’s one I’m very familiar with. Part disappointment, part exasperation. “What I’m doing here, Kathryn, is saving you from making a mistake.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She places her hands on her hips and just stares at me. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Her question startles me, mostly because I have no clue what she’s talking about. I’ve been here for a while now, happily cocooned in my Jensen-filled bubble. There’s no way she could have known we’ve rekindled our relationship if she just arrived in Rockland Falls.

  Mother sighs dramatically and reaches into her bag. She pulls out an envelope and hands it to me. The word confidential is written across the top, but it’s the other name that draws my attention. My attorney. “Did you think you could just divorce Charles and I wouldn’t find out about it?”

  Slipping the papers out of the envelope, I flip through the familiar papers until I get to the end. My entire body relaxes when I see Charles’s scrawl across the line. “Well, Mother, considering I was the one married to him and not you, I figured the divorce didn’t require your approval.”

  She throws her hands in the air. “Of course it requires my approval. You can’t divorce a man like Charles Dunnington III. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I’m happier without him,” I answer honestly.

  “Oh, you don’t know what you’re feeling. It’s probably because of this place. It’s toxic. Too many ghosts and bad memories,” she argues, glancing around as if one of those ghosts may jump out and get her.

  “This place is my home.”

  “New York is your home, with Charles. This place is nothing, Kathryn. Small town people with their small minds. Their biggest decision is whether to wear the blue jeans or the shorts to the town festival.”

  “I love this town. Father knew it. That’s why he left me this place,” I insist, digging my heels in the ground.

  “Your father left you this place because he knew I didn’t want it. You need to put it on the market and come back with me. We can still fix this mess you’ve created with Charles,” she says, grabbing me by the arm and starting to pull me toward the doorway.

  “Stop!” I yell, pulling my arm from her grip. “I don’t want to fix anything with Charles. I’m not going back to New York, Mother. I’m sorry, but I’m staying. I’m happy here.” My heart starts to pound in my chest and I can feel the sweat breaking out on my brow.

  She stares at me with lifeless eyes. “This better not be about that boy.”

  “That boy? You mean Jensen?” I gasp, glaring at her as if she’s someone I don’t recognize. And maybe that’s just it. Maybe I’ve never really seen the real Annabelle Elliott.

  “Yes, him. His entire family is trash, Kathryn. You’re so far above them it’s not funny,” she says, crossing her arms over her expensive, designer top.

  “But I’m not, don’t you see? I don’t want to be above him. I want to be with him,” I insist.

  “You’re talking nonsense, just like his father did all those years ago,” Mother retorts, an angry bite of the tongue.

  That stops me in my tracks. “What do you mean?”

  As if realizing what she said, she waves a dismissive hand. “Never mind, darling. It’s enough of this game you’re playing now and time to come home to New York.”

  “I won’t. I’m staying.”

  “You are so much your father’s daughter.”

  Her words strike me as an intended insult, but honestly, I feel honor. My father was a good man, despite whatever affair he had when I was younger. “I’m not leaving, and the papers are signed. I’m not married to Charles anymore, Mother, and if you value any sort of relationship with me, you’ll respect that.”

  Her eyes flare with anger. “You want the trailer trash? You want a man who can’t provide for you the way you’re accustomed to?”

  “Don’t you see, Mother? I’m not accustomed to anything. You are. You’re the one with the impossibly high standards, not me. I love him. I don’t care if he runs his own business or if he were a trash collector. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s the way he makes me feel. That’s why I’m with him.”

  She just stands there, staring at me as if I were a stranger she barely knows. “You’ve always been s
o noncompliant.”

  “That’s because I’m my own person with her own wants and needs.”

  Mother rolls her eyes dramatically. “Fine. You want to slum it with the town lawnboy, then you’ve made your bed. Don’t come crying to me when he takes all of your money and leaves you with nothing.”

  “Clearly you don’t know Jensen Grayson,” I state.

  “If he’s anything like his father, I’m sure I can figure it out,” she responds, though I’m not sure she intended for me to hear it.

  Unsure why Jensen’s father has now been brought into this a second time, I decide to try to salvage any relationship I have with my mother. “It’s getting late. Do you have a place to stay?”

  She looks at me with wide eyes. “I thought I’d be able to stay with my only daughter.”

  I exhale. “Of course you can stay. I can get one of the other guest bedrooms made up,” I tell her.

  “My bags are in the car,” she replies, walking around me and entering the main living room. “You’ve made a lot of changes.”

  I noticed she didn’t compliment those changes, so I opt to just say, “Yep. I’ll grab your bags.”

  Outside, the evening air is cool against my skin as I make my way to my mother’s BMW. Three large suitcases are in the popped trunk, and it’s hard to get them out and up the stairs. Did she pack for a month’s visit? Oh God, she’s staying a month, isn’t she?

  After the third bag is brought inside, I set them beside the staircase, deciding to give myself a little break before trekking them up to one of the rooms.

  “You’ve updated the kitchen, I see,” she says, walking through the formal dining room I have yet to use.

  “I did.”

  She simply nods again and turns my way. Before either of us can speak, the door behind me opens. Emma and Orval enter, laughing, and stop when they see me standing before them. “Oh, good evening, dear. I didn’t know you had another guest,” Emma says, a warm, grandmotherly smile on her face.