For how long will the memories haunt me?
She assumed for the rest of her life.
There was a soft rap on the door.
“Jess?” Nella cracked the door and pushed her head through.
Jessica wiped her cheeks of a few tears. “Come in.”
“Hey, hon, are you ready to go down?” Nella approached her friend, almost hesitantly.
“I’m not sure I ever will be.” She blinked with prolonged desperation. Her eyelashes wet with tears.
“Good thing for waterproof mascara,” Nella joked with her trying to lighten her mood.
Jessica attempted a smile, but her lips barely formed a half circle. Nella had truly been a stronghold of support for her these last few weeks.
“I’ll be right by your side and you know I always will be.” Nella put her hand on the back of her friend’s head, lightly playing with her hair. “There are a lot of people down there, but you will be okay.”
Of course there would be a lot, Jessica thought. With the name Lexan all of the prestigious community was here. Even the mayor put an appearance in at the gravesite. Colleen, who was apparently a close friend of Bryan’s, would not be attending. Jessica had left a message for her to call but never heard back. Richard, Bryan’s former business partner, came, though. Jessica had to wonder why Bryan never talked about him more or brought him over to the house.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jessica reached for Nella’s hand.
Mason stood at the base of the staircase, clasping a drink with a napkin in his one hand. He had just taken a sip and brought his arm down. He respectfully nodded a greeting to her, and she reciprocated.
Upon reaching the main level, she felt as if all eyes were on her, but they were not of course. This crowd would view her with disdain. She wasn’t a part of their elite circle or a member of their posh clubs. They merely had tolerated her because of Bryan. And now with him gone, her existence didn’t matter. They likely would not even confess knowing her the moment they left today.
She shrugged her shoulders, trying to relieve the growing tension. They had arranged the memorial speeches to be held on the grounds near the gardens. The small things that Jessica had overlooked became apparent. Stupid and simple things—like the gardens. They were so ornately kept and maintained, never a twig or leaf out of place. Yet in all the time she knew Bryan and lived here, she had never seen a groundskeeper and he had never mentioned one.
Life had slowed down with his death. As in time-lapsed photography where an extremely fast traveling object is captured in movement—frame by frame—that’s how the last few days were to her. Slow yet fast. Empty yet full.
“Hi, Jessica?” Myles Flannigan extended his hand to her.
Jessica shook it. “Yes, and you’re Judge Flannigan.” She recognized him from the painted portrait in his office.
“Please call me Myles.”
His facial features were soft for a man of his age. Jessica surmised he had led a somewhat sheltered life. His eyes were warm and sincere behind his glasses.
“Thank you for coming. I know you were close with the family.”
Jessica’s composure was together yet tiny fractures were working their way in the seams. These fractures were like malignant tumors that ate at her, trying to destroy her sanity. She attempted a smile.
“That I was. I knew Bryan since he was a boy. Only this high—” Myles marked a height with his hand to illustrate his point.
Jessica’s attention waned from the judge, her thoughts distracted by the activities in the room. Many people filled the main space, easily one hundred. Men and women, all dressed in black, sipped on their liquid sanity. They made idle talk about the man they knew as Bryan Lexan, the man with whom they were hardly familiar, with the exception of the family name. They gave the expression known by association its literal translation. She caught a glimpse of Rosa opening the door.
The woman who stepped through the threshold held an aura about her, a faint familiarity. She wore a black skirt and blouse and a black hat with netting that covered her eyes. Her head was downcast trying to coordinate the entry with a young person holding her hand. Jessica recognized the boy, and when the woman lifted her head it was apparent she spotted Jessica. They maneuvered their way through the crowd toward her.
“My sympathy, Jessica.”
Colleen’s words lacked sincerity, dripping from her lips like venom from the mouth of a viper. She never attempted to shake Jessica’s hand and neither did Jessica initiate the greeting.
“You remember Will?” Colleen placed a hand on her son’s shoulders.
Jessica nodded.
The judge excused himself and went to mingle with others in the room. The rest of them stood with their attention on her. A sense of claustrophobia seized her.
She addressed Nella and Mason, “We better get outside.”
Jessica moved to leave, but Colleen reached out for her arm, stopping shy of physical contact.
“I’m sorry I never returned your call.”
Jessica searched her eyes, but they revealed very little. The hand that rested on her son’s shoulder tightened and loosened. The other arm hung at her side. Her eyes were shifting now, not rested or relaxed on Jessica’s gaze. The woman made her nervous.
Colleen continued, “I didn’t want to know. I found out from Richard though. He called too. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
The woman she and Bryan had fought over the last time she saw him stood mere inches in front of her. She had already wasted too much time on the replay of events. She had to believe in Bryan’s innocence and by default hers.
“So am I.” Jessica’s voice, though low, was not weak. “Please excuse us. The memorial speeches will begin very soon.”
In total there were ten people who stood up to say their piece about Bryan. How proud he would have made his father with his accomplishment of setting up and establishing a successful law firm. The large profile cases he landed on his own merit. They talked as if Bryan wasn’t handed anything. That was the way they remembered him and the way they saw him.
Jessica knew that he did struggle and work hard, but his success was partially the result of his family name. It was too well known to ignore.
Listening to these people speak about him nauseated her. These people only pretended to know what friendship was, and they didn’t know Bryan. They knew the idea of Bryan. He was Lexan by blood and that was enough for them. As a collective they represented the type of people she loathed.
When it came her time to speak, she stood at the podium with shaking legs. She wished that the ground would open and just swallow her whole instead of having to endure this. But that thought made her feel selfish. Bryan deserved to have words spoken on his behalf. And this was her way of getting some closure, letting reality sink in, or at least that’s what Nella kept telling her.
Jessica spoke for ten minutes about the man who would have been the father of her children. She let them catch a glimpse of the man she knew. Most of them likely thought of him as the gentleman in a pressed tuxedo at their banquets, but she enlightened them to his complexities. She pointed out that he was a genuine individual who put his heart into living and working hard. And separate from his family name, he wanted to establish his own place in the world and make his own legacy.
Yet as time has a way of doing it passed, and the black mass that once filled the yard filtered out of it. She dropped herself onto the white sofa. The absoluteness was sinking in. She was alone. Not alone in the sense of having friendship, but companionship.
Nella and Mason sat down on each side of her.
“YOU SHOULD GET SOME REST,” Mason said and faced her.
How he wanted to take his finger and tuck a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. How he wanted to kiss her on the forehead and tell her everything would be okay. He could not do either. It w
ould make her question his integrity, and they had become close friends since the news of Bryan’s death.
She had finally begun to let him into her world. He found himself caring for her even more than he had anticipated. Her eyes peered into his so intensely he feared she could read his thoughts.
“I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT.” She smiled briefly and fought off a yawn. She put her hand on his knee. The moment they came into contact part of her yearned for him, but she had just buried her fiancé. She quickly pulled her hand back.
What kind of a monster am I?
“You guys can go. I’ll be all right. Rosa’s here too if I need anything.”
They all stood. Nella hugged Jessica tightly.
“You take care of yourself. And call if you need anything.” Nella kissed her on the cheek.
“I will.” Jessica parted from their hug. She was left facing Mason, who stood there appearing awkward. She never thought the man had that ability.
Should I hug him or not?
The conflict brewed within her. Would she be risking too much by giving in? He was simply a friend. He had been by her side for the last few weeks, through her hardest times.
They both reached out at the same time barely missing each other’s foreheads on the pull into the embrace. It was a brief, tight hug. But it was enough. Jessica’s chest heaved from the anxiety of the day and the sincerity in his touch. It was wonderful, almost heavenly. When God created man, he built in security.
-
Chapter 26
STARING DOWN INTO THE WHITE bowl of the toilet was not how Jessica pictured herself waking up this morning. She reached up with her arm, flushed the toilet, and blew her nose. The sensation made her vomit again.
The better part of three weeks had passed since Bryan’s memorial, and this stomach flu had a hold on her. Her only relief was it came in waves. Hopefully, her doctor would have some answers for her this afternoon.
Getting up she rubbed her stomach, which remained tender despite being relieved of the bile that had brewed there moments earlier. She splashed water on her face and patted it dry. She found brief comfort in the sweet scent of the fabric softener.
Memories of Bryan overtook her. It brought her back to the day she came home and pulled the towel from his waist. They had made love. Tears filled her eyes. This was going to be another one of those days. Somehow she needed to move on, to rid herself of this pain. It was the how that eluded her.
The mirror revealed dark circles under her eyes and her skin was blotchy without a trace of makeup. She had to get out of here. This was Bryan’s home. It was going to be their home, but plans had changed. Plans had changed, her thought reiterated.
Even though his death hit her many times over, she hated the finality of it—the injustice and unfairness of the situation. It was one week exactly until all disbursements of the Will would be finalized. The recollection of this caused her a moment’s pain. She hadn’t heard from the lawyer.
She had to get out of here. Everything served to remind her of him—from the smell of fabric softener to the sheets they laid together in, to the sofa they sat on while sharing conversations and sipping a drink. She had to reach inside and muster the power to go on, to move on—without him.
She stood there gazing at herself in the mirror. The reflection taunted her to soak in self-pity, but her fighting spirit told her she had to move on. Bryan would want her to be happy and live a full life. It would dishonor his love if she mulled in her misfortune.
Today would be a fresh start. She smiled at the irony of her thoughts. After vomiting, it was not that fresh of a start, but figuratively in respects to her life, it would be.
She sat the towel on the vanity and left the ensuite to get dressed.
It was Friday. Maybe she’d go in to the office for a few hours before her doctor’s appointment this afternoon.
“Miss Pratt,” Rosa called into the bedroom ahead of herself. When she caught sight of Jessica in her robe, she averted her eyes. “I knocked.”
“What is it, Rosa?” Jessica watched her closely.
She sensed the woman’s building resentment toward her. Rosa must have deemed that a sufficient mourning period had lapsed, and now it was time for Jessica to get out of her master’s home. But did Rosa fail to realize at this point she had no master?
“Mr. Freeman’s downstairs,” Rosa said, curtly and with disdain. She left the room but never shut the door behind her.
Maybe Jessica would move back to her apartment over the weekend. With all that had happened they never subleased it. She looked down at the diamond engagement ring she wore and reflectively held Bryan’s onyx ring that dangled from the chain around her neck.
She put her hand on her stomach and contemplated the fear she had for weeks.
What if she was pregnant with Bryan’s baby? That would explain the nauseous stomach and the onset and offset of it. Only hours from now, she would be in front of Doctor Neilson. She never expected the results today, but she prayed her suspicions were wrong. But unfortunately until her fate was confirmed, she had to live in possible anticipation of rearing a child as a single parent. She lightly shook her head in an effort to clear the barrage of thoughts that burdened her.
Should she open her heart for Mason? That thought spurred an instant feeling of guilt. She could be carrying Bryan’s baby. Was she being motivated by selfish reasoning to assume that Bryan would want her to move on with her life? Maybe it was a lie she fabricated to give herself permission. Either way, she owed it to herself to live, to breathe. She had to believe that Bryan would want her to go on and find healing. Surely, if he had loved her at all, he would.
She glanced at herself in the mirror that sat on the long dresser and deemed herself somewhat presentable. The thought of moving on both liberated and frightened her. The security she had with Bryan, the love, it would not be replaceable, or forgotten, but she did need love in her life—romance.
“Well, hello there.” Mason smiled at her from the base of the stairs.
“Hello.” She returned the smile and let her hand slide down the curve of the banister with each step. Just seeing his face made her feel light on her feet. It amazed her how adolescent he could make her feel—as if there were no consequences for actions.
“What are you doing here?”
“Since I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d drop by, see how you were doing. I know you haven’t been in to work for the last few weeks.”
“Yeah, I had some vacation saved up from a few years of burning the candle at both ends.” She gestured toward the sofa. “Want to sit for a bit?”
“Sure, but please don’t be too flattered. Maybe you could get Rosa for me again?” He grinned flirtatiously.
Jessica rolled her eyes but played along.
“Sure.” She moved toward the stairs. They both laughed, nervously.
It was as if both of them sensed there might be change in the direction of their friendship.
“So what’s up?” She dropped onto the couch and Mason sat beside her.
They faced each other. Jessica folded one leg under her. No words were spoken for about a minute. They watched and studied each other until Jessica spoke.
“I don’t think you came to just to look at me all day, did you?”
“That wouldn’t be a bad use of the day, but no. Maybe we could go out? Get some fresh air. It’s supposed to be a nice day. Chance of rain in the evening.”
Jessica laughed. “My, what would I do without the local weatherman giving me the latest on conditions in my area,” she mocked him.
Her eyes connected with his. The expression in his eyes communicated contentment, even a remote vulnerability. It nearly stole her breath.
“Sure, we can hang out.” Nerves fluttered in her belly. “What did you have in mind?”
The feeling of guilt threatened
to establish its grip on her again, but she refused. She had to brace herself for the future. She didn’t have to forget the past, but she had release it enough to move on.
“It might sound foolish to you, but I was thinking we could play mini golf or something. You know just get our minds off things.”
“Mini golf?” She couldn’t resist chuckling. “What are we, teenagers?” His facial reaction revealed the seriousness of his proposal. “Okay.”
“Great.” He smiled. “I was also thinking we could go out for lunch and see where the day takes us.”
“Sounds good.” Her lips began to part in a smile, but she remembered her appointment. “Actually I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. Maybe we should do this another time.” The recollection caused her disappointment. Even though moments earlier she heard his suggestion for the first time, she had already become attached to the plans.
“We can swing by the doctor’s and pick up after.” He smiled.
“Sure. Let me just grab my purse and a light sweater. Or will I need it, Mr. Weatherman?” She raced toward the stairs.
“OH, COME ON, YOU CAN SINK IT.” Mason coaxed Jessica.
The menacing, wooden windmill taunted her—the arms of it blowing past and blocking the hole at the base.
“I don’t know about that.” Jessica glanced over her shoulder. “You definitely have more confidence in me than I have.” She smiled and put her focus back on the hole.
Mason wanted to move closer, wrap his arms over hers and guide her stroke but thought it best to keep his distance from her. The less contact, the more possibility he would keep his control. With his sanity already jeopardized, touching her would be a real danger.
She swung the putter.
The ball hit an arm of the windmill, resulting in a thud before bouncing back toward them.
“Oh,” she moaned.
“Well, I guess Tiger Woods has nothing to worry about,” Mason said. They both laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, from what I remember, Mister, you’re no pro either. Let’s see here.”
Life Sentence Page 18