Rowan Revived

by Colbert, Taylor Danae

  “I’m coming with you,” I say, my eyes lifting to Jesse down on the lawn. “But I can’t tell him.” Millie nods, taking my hand.

  “Are you sure, Lee?” I suck in a long breath and nod.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  The day passes painfully slowly, but I do a fairly good job of not letting Jesse know that the clock is ticking. After dinner, he heads into the barn to get dressed for his night shift at the Shell, and I join him, watching with hungry eyes as he strips down to shower.

  As he walks to the bathroom, he drops his boxers and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Care to join?” he asks, his lips tugging up into a smile. I smile and nod, putting my hands up in the air so he can take my shirt off.

  As we climb into the hot shower, the water stings my skin. But his kisses to the back of my shoulders make me lose all my senses. I turn around so that we’re facing each other, and take his lips with mine. I press against him hard, our wet, soapy bodies sliding against each other effortlessly. I feel him growing against my stomach, and slowly lift my legs so they’re wrapped around his waist. He adjusts himself, leaning back, and entering me fast. He takes my breath away with every stroke. It’s quiet for us, no moaning and groaning, just our bodies clinging to each other as we move. He pushes me up against the wall, his fist hitting the cool tile as he releases inside of me. But I’m not ready to release him. We stay like that for a moment, entwined in every way. He finally sets me down, kissing me again. He smiles as he pulls away, and the last piece of my heart officially breaks in two.

  “I love you,” he whispers, and my breath catches. I stare at him, blinking feverishly. The smile slowly fades from his lips. “Sorry. Was that too—”

  “I love you,” I whisper back, lunging toward him again. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my head in the crook of it. He kisses the top of my head, my cheek, and then my lips.

  As we get out and dry off, I pull my hair up off my neck, and he’s smiling at me.

  “What?” I ask. He shakes his head.

  “Nothin.’ I just already can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve never had anyone that made me wanna rush home.”

  Crack. All of me. Cracking into two, turning to dust and floating away.

  I walk him down to his truck and kiss him goodbye one more time. He pulls away with a huge smile on his face, and I wonder what’s better: knowing the heartbreak is coming, or being blind-sided. Does it hurt less, one way or the other? Is it more deadly if you can’t see it coming?

  Once Jesse leaves, it feels like the night is moving a mile a minute. Millie is packing bags and consoling a crying Caleb.

  “I don’t wanna go,” he says. “Please Mommy. Please can we stay with Jesse?”

  I watch my sister hide her own tears as she packs her life back into two suitcases. I’m moving a lot slower as I pack my own.

  “Aunt Lee, can you stay here and I’ll stay with you? Please?” he asks me, tugging on my hand. I kneel down to pick him up and cradle him like a baby.

  “Cay, we gotta go buddy. It’s not safe here right now,” I tell him, kissing his forehead.

  “But Jesse’s here. He will keep us safe, I know it!” Caleb says. I swallow. Because that’s exactly what Jesse would say if he were here.

  We’ve packed everything we came with, and have all our things at the door. We look around, putting anything back into place that wasn’t here before. I walk to the kitchen table, leaving the note I wrote to Jesse in the center. It says I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. That I’m sorry I can’t choose him. That I’m grateful to him for changing my life. That I know I’ll never love someone else like this. Ever.

  I leave some water for Coby, then turn around and get one last look at the only place that’s ever felt like home. Then we walk out the front door and load up my little car, with no idea where we’re off to next. I peel off down the dirt road to the bridge, and the inn is growing smaller and smaller in the distance behind us. I turn onto the main road and look around Baycrest, a place that means more to me in the few months that I’ve been here than Boston ever could.

  We pull off into the diner, knowing our ride will be much more pleasant if we fill Caleb’s belly. I poke at my salad, but I can’t fathom eating right now. Caleb finishes up his milkshake, and we get back into the car.

  I stop at a red light as Millie fumbles with a map, and I freeze when I hear the music coming from the open windows of the Shell, just a block away. I know he’s there behind the bar, pouring drinks and smiling, thinking he’s coming home to me tonight. I suddenly realize my jaw has started to shake. I feel Millie’s hand on mine.

  “Do you want to stay?” she whispers. I look to her, the light in front of me turning green. I shake my head.

  “No. But I can’t leave without saying goodbye to him. I just can’t,” I say. She nods.

  “Then let’s go say goodbye.”

  We pull into the Shell’s parking lot, and my legs are wobbly as I stand. I kneel down to the car window.

  “I’ll be back,” I say. Millie nods.

  I head inside, smiling politely and waving to all the locals I’ve come to know and adore. Even to Amber. Berta’s behind the bar, pouring drinks and shouting orders, until she lays eyes on me. She wipes her hands on her apron and comes out from behind the bar.

  “What are you...what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see Jesse,” I say.

  “Some man came in here just a few minutes ago, while Jess was out back unloading a shipment. Asking where the inn was. We told him we’d never heard of it, and he took off. Jess came back in and we told him, and he took off back to the inn.”

  My eyebrows raise, and I can feel the blood swirling in my head.

  “What did the man...what did he look like?” I ask.

  “Tall, skinny, blackish hair. Weird, hazely kinda eyes,” Berta says. My eyes grow wide, and then hers do, too. “Oh, Jesus. That was him, wasn’t it?”

  My heart is pounding in my chest as I back away slowly from the bar.

  Tiger Bentley is in Baycrest.

  I turn to run out the door, but I stop. I can’t bring Millie and Caleb back there. I turn back to Berta, and she’s dangling her keys in my face.

  “Please, watch them,” I say. She nods, following me out the front door. She heads to my car as I run to her truck, speeding away without putting my seatbelt on.

  As I fly down the Baycrest’s main road, blowing through stop signs and stop lights, I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do when I see Tiger Bentley. But none of that matters if he gets to Jesse first.

  When I get to the inn, everything is eerily quiet. I slam the truck into park and hop out before it even stops rocking. There’s a black rental car parked haphazardly in the center of the driveway, Jesse’s truck butt-up against it. The house is dark, with no lights on, no sound coming from anywhere. I tiptoe across the grass to the side of the house, sliding across it as I make my way around the back. And that’s when I see him.

  Tiger Fucking Bentley. He’s stumbling on the lawn of the Rowan Inn, barely able to stand straight. But he’s got a gun pointed right at the love of my life. My heart is beating so loud, I can’t hear myself think.

  Girl with the plan. Always.

  Except for right now, when the fucking plan needs to be how to stay alive.

  Jesse’s got his back to the water, and he’s slowly stepping closer and closer to it. He’s holding his hands up, trying to talk Tiger down. Tiger’s grunting and spitting and stepping closer and closer to him.

  Jesse sees me, and his eyes grow wide. His breathing steadies, and I know he’s trying to tell me with his eyes to run. But he knows there’s no way in hell that’s happening.

  I step closer, and my foot crunches on the gravel. Tiger whips around, and I duck back into the shadow of the house. Suddenly, Jesse starts yelling and hollering, trying to get Tiger’s attention back on him.

  I watch as he continues backing up toward the water.
<
br />   What is he doing?

  Then I remember his mother’s words.

  The Bay will protect you.

  If he thought we were still in the house, he was trying to lead Tiger away from it. If he could get him into the water, he could disorient him.

  “I know you fucked her,” Tiger growls.

  “Calm down, Tiger. I haven’t touched her,” Jesse says.

  “You did. My fucking kid probably calls you ‘Dad,’” Tiger says, with a sadistic laugh. I’m looking around for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. I remember the shovel that Millie had brought inside for protection, but there’s no fast way to get to it right now.

  “Where are they?” Tiger asks. “Where the fuck are they?”

  Jesse’s voice stays low and calm.

  “I don’t know,” he says. “They were gone when I got here.”

  “Fucking liar!” Tiger shouts, his gun waving in the air, the moonlight bouncing off of it. Suddenly, he lowers it so it’s aimed right at Jesse. His arm is shaky, but it’s pointed right at him. Jesse’s eyes find mine, and in that instant, he closes them like he’s saying a prayer. In the same instant, Tiger’s gun goes off, and it feels like I’ve been shot. I watch as Jesse falls backward, but I can’t focus. My vision blurs, and before I realize it, I’m charging Tiger. I jump on his back, pulling my arm tightly across his neck, squeezing with all the force in my body. He’s spinning, punching, kicking, doing all he can to get me off of him. I see him turn the gun toward me, and suddenly, I don’t care. I’m still clawing away, gouging at his eyes, desperately finding the strength to get the gun. Somehow, he loosens my grip and throws me on the ground. But as I look up at him, standing over me, gun pointed down, I see a figure behind us.

  It’s my sister.

  And she’s got the goddamn shovel.

  She runs at him, slamming it against his head once. He stumbles, turning toward her. Bam. She hits him again.

  “What the—” he mumbles, and then bam. He drops the gun, and drops to his knees. She kicks the gun across the lawn, arches back, and slams the shovel into the back of his head one more time.

  “Fuck you, Tiger Bentley!” she cries out, tears streaming down her face. “Fuck. You!”

  I turn, running toward Jesse, the Bay lapping up against him. He’s clutching onto his shoulder, and the water around him is murky with his blood. I drag him out of the water, with Millie grabbing onto his legs to help.

  I kneel down to him.

  “Jess?” I ask. “Can you hear me?”

  But he doesn’t answer, and I feel my heart sinking into the water.

  “Jess? Open your eyes, please, baby,” I whisper into his hair. I’m pressing my hand against the bullet wound, hoping the pressure helps someway, somehow.

  As we lift him up, the sky above begins to turn purple and the air fills with sirens. Police come from every angle, and I turn to my sister.

  “I told Berta to call them,” Millie says.

  Cops and EMTs surround us, and I slowly back away as they do their jobs.

  29

  Lena

  I’m standing at the kitchen sink, idly washing a pot that I’ve been scrubbing for the longest time, gazing out the window. My eyes are heavy, and the weight of not sleeping is finally catching up to me. These last few nights haven’t felt real, and I wonder how many nights I can stay awake before my body actually crashes.

  I’m startled by the timer on the washing machine, and it snaps me out of my dishwashing trance. I dry my hands and slowly walk across the kitchen to the basement steps. I open the washing machine and mindlessly begin tossing clothes into the dryer, until I realize I’m holding his shirt—the one he was shot in—in my hand. No matter how much treatment I’ve tried, it’s still stained. My hands begin to shake as I stare down at it. I lean against the dryer, clutching the wet shirt to my chest.

  Because of me, and the drama I brought here to Baycrest, this shirt is stained with blood. It’s been almost two weeks, but I can’t shake the clarity of that night, as much as I wish I could. I can’t escape the image of his body flailing as he fell into the water. And I can’t shake the image of Tiger’s bloody, beaten face after my sister had her way with the shovel. I can’t forget what it looked like, watching the EMTs work on Jesse. I can’t forget anything about the fear in Josie’s voice when I called her to say that her brother had been shot.

  I toss the shirt into the dryer, then make my way back upstairs. When I get to the top of the steps, I hear someone in the kitchen.

  “Berta?” I ask, my voice lifeless and sleepy.

  “Hey, kid,” she says, turning around from putting some groceries away in the cupboard. She leans back against the counter. “How ya holdin’ up?”

  Each time someone’s asked me that, I’ve wanted to burst into tears. I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping it together, only letting myself really cry at night. Especially when Caleb’s around. He can’t see me like this.

  I take a deep breath and let a single tear roll down my cheek. The timer on the oven goes off, and a smile actually crosses my lips.

  “Well, he could be dead,” I say, “so overall, I’m doing alright.” I walk toward the oven to turn off the timer and reset it for a few hours later. I nod toward it. “Reminder to take his medicines.” Berta nods and follows me into the living room.

  We’ve set it up like a hospital room, which Jesse absolutely can’t stand. They delivered a hospital bed, and we even have a medcart set up next to him. There’s a bedpan he refuses to use, and we have the recliner pushed up real close, in case he needs a change of scenery.

  I hand him a glass and his antibiotics to prevent any infections. Then I pull out the creams they gave us at the hospital and get ready to change his bandage. When I pull it back, he hisses. Caleb pops up at his bedside. He’s fascinated with the injury. He leans onto the bed, his hands holding up his head.

  “Does it hurt, Jesse?” he asks. Jesse forces a smile.

  “It’s not all that bad,” he answers. Caleb doesn’t know what happened to Jesse. We told him he hurt himself outside by the dock. Not a full lie, not a full truth. Someday, we will tell him. And he’ll be so, so angry. But not yet. He deserves to be a kid for now.

  I stare down at the bullet hole in Jesse’s chest, just next to his shoulder. Each time I’ve done this, I just go through the motions as though he’s not the love of my life. Like I didn’t almost lose him. If I don’t stay stoic, I know I won’t be able to take care of him.

  As I’m finishing, he stares up at me, squeezing my other hand.

  “Hey,” he says. My eyes flick up to him. “I’m fine.” I smile and shake my head.

  It’s about the twentieth time he’s had to remind me that he’s okay, because he knows that I’m petrified. Still. That the gunshot still rings in my ears.

  Josie comes in just as I’m wrapping him back up, making a gagging noise as I tug the bandage back. She can’t stand the sight of it, so she hasn’t been much help in the nursing department.

  “How ya feelin’?” she asks as she plops down on the couch next to us. He shrugs.

  “Like someone shot me,” he says. She laughs and rolls her eyes.

  “And how are you doing, Lee?” she asks me. Now I roll my eyes.

  “I’m not the one who got shot,” I say. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  My sister snorts as she walks into the room.

  “Maybe because none of us have ever seen a panic attack like the one you had. You hyperventilated. Do you not remember?”

  I shrug. I actually don’t. I don’t remember anything about what I was doing. Only him. Only what he looked like. Only wondering if he was going to make it. He tugs on my hand and holds his arm out. I smile and carefully, masterfully crawl into the hospital bed next to him, like I’ve done every day for the last two weeks.

  “So, you kinda like me, huh?” he says. I smile and nuzzle up against him. Another timer goes off in the kitchen, and I know the lasagna I ma
de for dinner is ready. I hop up, but he tugs me back, kissing the side of my head.

  “You need to relax,” he says. “You’re doing too much. I need to get out of this damn bed.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “It’s been two weeks. You’ll get there,” I tell him, then scoot out of the bed.

  “Caleb, Jo, why don’t you two go help Lena in the kitchen?” he asks. Josie raises an eyebrow as Jesse turns to Millie. “I gotta talk to Millie.”

  Josie still has a perplexed look on her face, one that I’m sure probably matches my own, but takes Caleb’s hand and follows me into the kitchen.

  That night, we all sit around the hospital bed like we’ve been doing for two weeks, eating off of T.V. trays, talking, laughing, smiling at the fact that Jesse’s still here, and that Tiger is gone.

  The cops picked him up that night, arrested him, and he’s being held without bail. I know it will be tough to keep him behind bars permanently because of his dad’s money, but luckily, my sister has a great lawyer. Josiane Rowan, Esq., is no one to mess with.

  After dinner, Berta leaves, and Josie, Millie, and Caleb head upstairs. I make sure Jesse is caught up with his medications, help him out of bed so he can use the bathroom, and get him all settled. Then I carefully slide into the tiny bed next to him, where we’d both prefer that I sleep every single night.

  The next morning, while I’m standing over the kitchen counter again, making breakfast, Millie comes in behind me. She leans up against the counter, plucking a strawberry off the plate in front of me.

  “Wanna go to town today?” she asks. I stop cutting and look up at her.

  “What?” I ask like it’s a completely unfathomable idea. I haven’t left the house—or Jesse—since the shooting.

  “I need to get a few things, and I wanted to see if you wanted to come. Josie’s going to be here.”

  I think about it for a minute. I could use the fresh air, a change of scenery from the same three rooms I’ve been confining myself to for the last fourteen or fifteen days.