At the Heart of It

by Tawna Fenske

  “You’ve said more than enough.”

  Kate stomped her foot, irritated with herself for such a cliché gesture and for the fact that it only served to splash muddy water up her calves. “Dammit, Jonah. The execs had the information. You can’t blame them for wanting to catch an authentic reaction from you on camera.”

  “Oh, it was authentic, all right. Probably the only authentic thing in this whole made-for-TV mess.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “The way I felt about you—the way I still feel about you—”

  “Spare me, Kate. People who care about each other don’t let the other person get blindsided on national television. They don’t plot behind that person’s back to make the other person look like an idiot. You just don’t do that.”

  Kate swallowed hard, wishing she could make him understand. Wishing she could make herself understand. “You were a Marine,” she tried. “You know what it’s like to have to carry out orders you may not agree with.”

  “Yeah, and I also understand about integrity and honor. About not sacrificing people for your own self-interests.”

  She took a shaky breath, wishing she could say more. Wishing her goddamn contract hadn’t left her hands tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  “I know it’s hard to understand,” she said slowly, “but this show is important. Not just to me and to my career, but to potential viewers,” she said. “If it can help even a handful of people who are struggling, isn’t it worth a little sacrifice to get them to tune in and watch?”

  “Spoken like someone who wasn’t the one making the sacrifice.”

  She blinked hard, but her eyelids had given up the fight. A tear slipped down one cheek, then another. Or maybe that was the rain, trailing through her hair and down the back of her neck. She shivered under the porch light, wishing her brain weren’t picturing how this would all look on camera.

  It would be a terrific shot.

  “I love you, Jonah.”

  A flash of emotion played across his face. Surprise, hurt, confusion. He stared at her for a moment, then glanced at the bush over her shoulder. “Let me guess. Are the hidden cameras documenting this?”

  “What? No, of course not!”

  “Oh, right—because you’re above using a hidden camera to get the shot you want?” He shook his head. “I saw the one in your hand at Viv’s place.”

  Ice slashed through her. “I was just—”

  “Carrying out orders?” Jonah shook his head. “That’s more than just a passive role in the game. You were in charge, Kate. And I was the dupe who fell for it.”

  Kate’s gut churned. “No one meant to make you look stupid, Jonah. That’s not what it was about.”

  “No? You mean it was just a happy bonus?” He snorted. “From the start, that’s what everyone wanted. The chest-thumping Neanderthal who’d curse and say stupid shit and take his shirt off on cue.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “That’s exactly how it’ll play on TV,” he said. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Kate swallowed hard. He wasn’t wrong. That was the worst of it. “Jonah, I never meant for it to happen like this.”

  “Yes, you did.” The venom was gone from his voice, replaced by a tiredness that made Kate ache more than his anger had. “You wanted drama. You wanted a spectacle, and you got it. Congratulations, Kate.”

  And with that, he shut the door in her face for the second time that day.

  Jonah turned and stalked through his entryway without a word. Thunder boomed behind him like some fucking special effect in a TV show. In his TV show.

  “Fuck you,” he muttered, then felt like a jackass for cursing at the weather.

  From the back of the sofa, Marilyn regarded him with silent judgment.

  The person stroking the cat’s back wasn’t as silent.

  “Don’t you think you were kind of harsh just now?” Jossy said.

  “No.”

  “Way to keep an open mind.”

  He stepped around the sofa but didn’t sit down. He was too keyed up. He raked his hands through his hair and paced in front of the fireplace. “She played me for a fucking chump,” he said. “It’s bad enough that I seem like an idiot for botching my own divorce, but she set me up.”

  Jossy frowned and tucked her good leg up under her on the sofa. “Why are you pissed at Kate? You should be mad at the executives or Viv or the cameraman.”

  “Or myself,” he muttered. “I’m the one who fucked up the damn paperwork.”

  “I wasn’t going to point that out.”

  “God, I’m such an idiot,” he said. “I remember all that shit showing up in the mail and thinking Viv had just gone ahead and filed. That she’d given me a task to do, and then done it herself like always. I assumed—” He shook his head. “Never mind. Isn’t that what they say about why you never assume anything?”

  “Because it makes an ass of u and me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Owl,” said Marilyn.

  “You keep out of this,” Jonah muttered.

  “You’re arguing with a cat,” Jossy pointed out. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little?”

  He shook his head, still trembling with anger. “God, I’m such a dumbass.” He kept pacing, but he felt his sister’s eyes on him. Back and forth. Back and forth. He was such a pathetic cliché.

  “So you’re mad at yourself,” Jossy said.

  “Yes.”

  “And Viv and the producers and all the TV people.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re taking it out on Kate.”

  He stopped pacing and whirled to face her. Something about hearing her name was like a bucket of cold water tossed in his face. He thought about her standing out there on the porch in the rain and felt his heart split right down the middle.

  “I didn’t spill my guts to Chase,” he said. “I didn’t sleep with the cameraman.”

  “That would make for one helluva reality show.”

  He glared at his sister. “Not in the mood for jokes, Jossy.”

  “Owl.”

  He glared at Marilyn. “You have something to say?”

  The cat lifted both eyebrows in scorn, but refrained from further comment. He looked back at his sister, who was glaring at him with more heat in her eyes than Jonah had seen in a long time.

  She pointed at the sofa. “Sit down.”

  “What for?”

  “Because I said so!”

  Jonah sat, not sure why he was following orders given by someone whose diapers he’d helped change. Then again, he’d spent a lifetime doing whatever he thought would make Jossy happy. Now wasn’t the time to stop.

  He picked up a beer can off the coffee table, knowing it was empty and had been sitting there all week. He just needed something to hold. Or maybe he wanted to crush it, feeling the aluminum crumple in his fist as he—

  “What’s pissing you off more?” Jossy asked. “That you might look dumb on national television, or that Kate kept a secret from you?”

  “Why the hell am I supposed to pick?” he demanded. “Both are pretty shitty.”

  Jossy rolled her eyes and stroked a hand down Marilyn’s back. The cat gave a chirp that sounded like a snort of disgust.

  “Have you ever seen reality TV?” Jossy demanded. “Because this is how it works. They’re always trying to blindside someone to get the big reveal. To get the ratings.”

  “What, you’re an expert in reality television now?”

  Jossy grabbed a balled-up napkin off the couch and threw it at him. “I’ve watched every episode of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette for twenty-one seasons. I think I have an idea how these stupid shows are supposed to work.”

  “Is this where you rub it in?” he said. “Where you tell me I should have been watching with you all along so I wouldn’t be such a clueless twit?”

  “Yes, that’s my point exactly.” Jossy’s voice oozed with sarcasm. “I’m here to tell you that you woul
d have been a lot smarter if you’d spent the last fifteen years watching strangers get naked and use questionable grammar on national television.”

  Jonah grunted and set down the beer can. He grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the table before remembering they’d been there since Tuesday. He looked down at them, not surprised to see someone had licked the salt off all of them.

  He looked up at Marilyn, who closed her eyes and telegraphed her disgust. What are you going to do about it?

  Jossy sighed, seeming to develop a little sympathy at last. “Let me ask you something, Jonah. Why did you decide to do the show?”

  He scowled at the pretzels and didn’t look up. “For the money.”

  “Right, I gathered that. But you got decent money off your book deal with Viv. And I know the bookstore isn’t killing it, but you do okay, right?”

  “I do fine.”

  “So why did you need more money?”

  He thought about not answering her. About coming up with some bullshit story about fleshing out his artistic horizons or redeeming himself in the wake of the book.

  But after a month filled with dishonesty, he probably owed her more than that. He took a deep breath and met his sister’s eyes.

  “To help you out,” he said. “To make repairs at the shelter and maybe even buy you a computer-controlled knee. I thought if you had that, you could take up cycling again. Maybe not competitively, but if you could just ride again—”

  “You might not feel guilty anymore?” Jossy shook her head, then reached out and rested a hand on his knee. “I thought it was something like that.”

  He sighed. “Look, Joss. You loved cycling so much, and it was just taken from you.” I took it from you, he thought but didn’t say. “There’s no way to ride with the prosthetic you have now, and insurance will never pay for a computer-controlled one. I thought I could—”

  “You thought you could sneak around behind my back and pull puppet strings without telling me?”

  Jonah swallowed. “You’re pissed.”

  “I’m not pissed. I’m trying to make you see you’re being kind of a hypocrite here.”

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  Jossy sighed again, and Jonah could tell she was on the brink of throwing something besides a napkin.

  “I’d call you a dumbass right now, but you’re clearly sensitive about it. So I’m not going to.”

  “Your restraint is admirable.”

  Jossy shook her head and stared at him. “You think it’s okay for you to sneak around behind my back because it’s well intentioned. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself it’s okay because it’s for my own benefit, or maybe you even have the self-awareness to realize you’re doing it to ease your own guilt. It doesn’t matter, actually. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re making decisions that affect my life without telling me about it.”

  He dropped the pretzels back in the bowl and frowned down at them. “It’s not the same thing at all.”

  “It is the same thing,” she said. “You love me, and Kate loves that damn show. Not just as a television program, but as a way of helping people. As a way of spreading a message that’s had meaning for her.”

  He looked up at his sister. “You’re not really comparing my love for my sister to a producer’s love for her television show?”

  “For what that show stands for, at least in Kate’s mind. The power of love. The power of positive thinking. The power of not giving up on relationships or people.”

  He shook his head. “You’re giving her too much credit.”

  “And you’re not giving her enough,” Jossy snapped. “You want to know why you’re really so pissed?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Because you love her.”

  “No.” Jonah shook his head.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  Jossy stood up and grabbed the bowl of pretzels. Before Jonah could say anything, she’d upended the entire thing on his head. He sat there, dumbstruck, as twisted bits of pretzel tumbled into his lap.

  “You did not just do that,” he said.

  “Damn right I did.” She shook her head. “Seriously, people pay for your relationship insights and communication skills? You’re talking like a petulant toddler.”

  “Do as I say, not as I do,” he muttered, knowing damn well it was a weak argument.

  Jossy shook her head. “There’s no way you’d be this upset if you hadn’t fallen for her.”

  He started to argue, but stopped himself. Did she have a point? Pissed as he was, could he at least acknowledge that much?

  “Maybe,” he muttered.

  “So you admit it,” Jossy said. “You fell for her.”

  “So? It’s a moot point now anyway.”

  “Because you’re walking away from the show?”

  “That’s right.” Jonah started to rake his hands through his hair again before remembering his head was covered in pretzel dust. He sighed and dropped his useless fists into his lap. “I don’t know.”

  “What if I said I wanted you to stick it out?” Jossy said softly. “That I really want that prosthetic leg? That I want you to do whatever it takes to get it for me.”

  Jonah’s heart quivered. He turned and looked at his sister. “Do you?”

  She stared at him for such a long time that Jonah thought she might not answer again. “Maybe.”

  It was a start. “Then I’ll do whatever it takes to get it for you.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.” He meant it, too. If she wanted him to lie down on hot coals or stick paper clips under his fingernails or—

  “Go back to the show,” she said. “Give Kate a chance.”

  He stared at her. “Give her a chance with the show,” he said carefully.

  “With the show,” she agreed.

  On the back of the couch, Marilyn stood up and stretched, lifting both eyebrows with intense skepticism.

  “Owl.” Her expression was one of disdain, though Jonah could have sworn he heard approval in the lone syllable. “Owl!” she said again, more adamant this time.

  He looked back at his sister. “Just the show,” he said. “If I agree to finish it out, that’s all I’m agreeing to.”

  Jossy gave him a small smile and leaned over to pluck a pretzel from his hair. “We’ll see about that.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  At nine the next morning, Kate tapped on Viv’s front door. They weren’t scheduled to shoot until the next day, or maybe ever, depending on how things shook out with Jonah.

  The legal team was working on that.

  But at the moment, Kate had something she needed to get off her chest.

  The door swung open, and Viv looked at her blankly for a few beats. “Kate.” She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual soaring, serene smile. It was a tired smile. The smile of a woman who hadn’t slept well and perhaps had eaten six doughnuts for breakfast.

  Maybe Kate was projecting.

  “Good morning, Viv.” She held up a white paper cup with an earthy cardboard sleeve around it. “I brought you some of that tea you like. The cardamom-rose black from Metolius Artisan Tea?”

  Viv seemed to force the corners of her mouth a bit higher as she held open the door and waved her inside. “You’re an angel, Kate. Such a good soul.”

  The lump in Kate’s throat grew thick and sour, and she followed Viv into the parlor with guilt draped like a wet shawl around her shoulders. Her fingers felt numb around her own cardboard cup of tea as she looked about, almost surprised to see the space not cluttered with television production gear.

  “Pete came by and collected everything this morning,” Viv said. “He said they needed the equipment on another shoot.” She gave a sad little smile and looked down at her fingernails. “He gave me a hug and told me not to worry.”

  Kate smiled back, even though she didn’t feel it. “Pete seems like a guy who’d
give good hugs.”

  “That’s true.”

  The small talk felt stilted, and it echoed in the hollow spaces of the room. Kate looked around, noticing the empty spots where cameras and lighting equipment had stood only days ago. “It must be hard,” Kate said. “Having the filming in your space. No privacy or escape.”

  Viv turned and offered a small shrug. “Yes, but it’s what I wanted. What I asked for.” She gave a brittle little laugh. “Admittedly I haven’t always been a great judge of what’s best for me.”

  Kate forced a smile of her own and wondered how much to read into that. Was Viv making small talk or offering something deeper?

  “Please, sit down.” Viv gestured to the seating area, and Kate hesitated before choosing the squash-colored club chair where Jonah had seated himself at that first meeting.

  God. How long ago was that? It seemed like years, though it was only a matter of weeks.

  Kate found a coaster and set down her cup of tea on the coffee table. Viv arranged herself on the dove-gray leather loveseat and tucked her bare feet beneath the hem of her linen skirt. Then she folded her hands in her lap and looked at Kate expectantly.

  Kate took a deep breath. On the drive here, she’d practiced what she wanted to say, but now she was questioning her approach. She was questioning a lot of things, actually.

  She cleared her throat. “In chapter sixteen of But Not Broken, you talked about having the hard conversations,” Kate began. “You described the moment you had to tell your best friend that your relationship was over and you’d decided to leave—”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just say it.” There was the tired smile again. Viv lifted a hand and tucked a thick swath of dark hair behind her ear. “Sometimes it’s okay to just jump right in and say what you need to say.”

  “Right.” Kate cleared her throat. “Okay. First just let me say how much respect I have for you. I’ve made no secret of how much I admire you both professionally and as a person.”

  “Oh, for the love of Christ.” Viv closed her eyes and pressed her palms together just below her chin. As Kate watched, heart pounding, Viv lowered her forehead to her fingertips. She breathed deeply, in and out, eyes shut tightly. “Just say it already,” Viv said.