Spark

by S. L. Scott

  “What about his father, Cassie? You can tell me. I won’t tell your mother anything.”

  “She hates him. I get it. I made her hate him by sharing too much with her. But Jet and I were young, so young. I didn’t know better. I just wanted my mother to help me through the breakup. I lied to her—”

  Oh, my God! I remember now. Eileen came home so we stopped talking, but I remember Cassie trying to tell me everything. She lied to Eileen. She lied to her about Jet and the breakup.

  I have to find her journal. No wonder Eileen was looking for it. I just hope she never found it. I go to the dresser and open the drawers until I find her box of mementos. Needing to be quick, I open it and dig through—prom flower, Alfie’s christening pamphlet, a bar flyer. I stop and look at the lineup. The Crow Brothers were the opening act. With nothing that can lead me to the journal, I put the lid back on and move it aside to search the drawer.

  When she passed away, I got the will as promised and her wishes inside is what sent me seeking out Jet. At the time, I didn’t remember that short conversation with Cassie. I was too buried in my grief and all I could hear were Eileen’s words being whispered in my ear. I owe him an apology. So many.

  After searching the drawers, her closet, the nightstand, and around her bed, I know I don’t have enough time to continue. I want out of here and need to remember my mission—Alfie’s books. I grab the stack I find beside her bed and fill my backpack. Looking around the room once more, I don’t think there’s anything worth keeping other than a photo album I found with the books.

  I take it and leave as fast as I can.

  “Hannah?”

  Jet’s behind me, so I turn around. “Huh?”

  “I’ve called your name three times.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes.” He stirs the vegetables in the pan. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I grip the counter behind me. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  “Want to share?”

  I glance once more at Alfie who’s been sitting on the couch for the last hour quietly reading his books. “I think I’d like a glass of wine.” I don’t drink much, but something’s unsettled inside me that I can’t pinpoint and the need to calm this twisting is strong. I check on the chicken in the oven and then grab a bottle of wine from the fridge.

  Jet sets a glass in front of me and twists the cap. I start to pour when Alfie says, “Here it is. My favorite part.”

  Seeing him so content, so happy makes me happy. “You’re such a good reader. Will you read it to us?”

  He says, “I can’t read what Mommy writes sometimes. Her letters are curly.”

  Jet asks, “Your mom wrote it?”

  Alfie nods. I’m fast, sitting next to him as soon as I reach him. “Show me what your mommy wrote.”

  Opening the book wider, there are pages of handwritten notes tucked between the pages of the nursery rhyme book. My hand covers my mouth as I try to hold in my surprise.

  Jet’s leg presses to mine as he leans over us and reads. “Jet Mercury Crow. This is about me.”

  Alfie nods again with even more excitement. “Mommy told me all about you and said I would know you when I met you.” He holds up a picture of Jet laughing. Looks like something from a magazine or article that was printed from a computer. That is why he ran to him straight away when they first met. “That you’d want to be my daddy.”

  “I do, buddy.”

  I look up at him, his hand running through his hair and the other rubbing the inside corners of his eyes. He’s standing, but I still wrap my arm around his legs. I want him to know I’m here for him however he needs.

  Alfie hands him the notes, and Jet begins to read, “I fell in love with your daddy the first time we met. And he loved me . . .”

  My heart begins to ache, and I bring my arm back to my side. I’m not sure what to do or how to feel. I feel like an invader into this private moment. But worse, I feel like an impostor, a replacement in this family. My family.

  Standing up, I walk to the front window and stare out as he reads silently while sharing some lines here and there. They had their ups and downs, but she was in love with him.

  He was recording an album. He explains they never did finish due to money and time, so it became their EP. I hear him, but the words become muffled as I shrink inside myself, wanting to hide, knowing I was never supposed to have this life, a life I’ve come to love. This is a life of dreams come true and now . . . I’m unworthy of it just like so many have said. She was supposed to be in my shoes. Cassie deserved this happiness, not me.

  “Hannah?” My eyes meet Jet’s, worry creasing his forehead. “Did you hear that?”

  “No. I’m sorry. What?”

  Getting up from the couch, he comes over and wraps his arm around my waist. With the paper held in front of me, he says, “Second paragraph.”

  I read it to myself.

  I’m sorry for pushing him away. I only wanted what was best for him. I wanted to see his dreams come true and not be the reason they’re taken away. He’s an upstanding man who would drop everything if he knew, but what he has to offer the world and his child later is worth more.

  Turning into him, I rest my head on his chest. Cassie lied to everyone to help Jet make his dreams come true. “She knew you’d quit performing to be there for her, so she made it so you would never look back.”

  “She started that fight with me to seal our fate, and I fell for it.”

  “These are notes from her journal. Eileen’s been searching for it, and here, they were hidden in Alfie’s books.” I see that kid with the big smile sitting on the couch not even realizing how epically big this is. “You knew, pipsqueak, didn’t you?”

  “I pinky promised Mommy I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  Jet says, “You did good, Alfie.” Giving my waist a little squeeze, he kisses my head. “Read the next paragraph.”

  I wrap my arm around him and continue to read. “Hannah Lynn Nichols, my cousin. I think she’s in love with Jet. She spent a week reliving every moment with me. She never said his name, but I knew from how she described him. That’s destiny, Alfie. You’re going to be the one who brings them back together. If he can make her that happy after being together once, imagine how happy she’d be if they had a lifetime together.”

  Jet whispers into my hair, “You should have told me. I knew I loved you then.”

  “I wanted you together too. Did I make Mommy happy?”

  We turn to Alfie at the same time, and Jet says, “You did.”

  “You brought us together, Alfie,” I say, “just like she wanted.” Tilting toward Jet, I look up. “She saw through it all.”

  “I don’t like that I didn’t know about Alfie. I missed a lot and have a lot to make up for, but we’re getting there. As for Cassie, she was good for me when my mom died. She may have loved me, and I loved her in that I cared about her, but it’s not the same as what we have. I’m in love with you, Hannah.”

  “I’m in love with you, too.” The lump returns to my throat when I read the last part, and I tear up all over again. “My sweet Alfie, you will be with your daddy, but you will have Hannah. She loves you like I do, like I always will, but she’ll be the mommy you need when I’m not there.”

  Like he knew already, he nods. “She told me that.” Maybe he did know all along.

  “About me being your mom?”

  Nodding again, he says, “She said I can call you mommy if I want, and it won’t hurt her feelings.”

  I sit next to him. “You can call me that if you like.”

  “Okay.” He pops up and off the couch like I didn’t just have the most emotional conversation of my life. Kids keep the levity in check.

  Once Alfie goes to bed, Jet and I sit quietly in his room going through every book and pulling the journal papers from between the pages. It’s a big stack, and something we’ll always cherish. I’ll protect them and keep them safe for Alfie. He knows when he reads them, he gets to be with
his mommy again in a way. It’s quite a gift she has given him.

  “Cassie was hiding these from Eileen. It was the only way she could tell Alfie about you. She was preparing him to be with you, to accept you, and love you.”

  “She was preparing him for her to be gone and for us to be together.”

  “This could have been her sitting here with you.”

  “No,” he says, rubbing my leg. “We were kids. Neither of us knew what it meant to be in love. Whereas, I knew I loved you from the very beginning. You didn’t step into her position in my heart, Hannah. She never claimed a spot. Only you. Just as it should have been. Only you.”

  I rest my head on his stomach, staring up at the pages I hold above my head. “This is proof, beyond the written will, that she wanted you to have custody of him.”

  “Yes. I’m showing the lawyer in the morning. But the one thing I don’t understand is why Eileen is so adamant about winning custody. She must have known her daughter’s wishes. She read it in the will. Who I was at nineteen, hormonal and high-strung isn’t who I am now. So we had a fight. Would her mother really still hold the grudge from lies she was told?”

  “Seems extreme.” My eyes scan the pages, and then I see it. Sitting straight up, I say, “Oh, my God.”

  “What?”

  I point at the page. “It’s here. All right here.”

  34

  Hannah

  The judge looks back and forth between our side of the table and theirs. My aunt with her expensive lawyer by her side stares at us. Her eyes on me are dull and emotionless, not even anger seen in the dark centers. It’s as if she doesn’t know me at all.

  I guess she doesn’t anymore. Maybe she never did.

  I don’t feel the loss either. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for how she’ll have no one but my father to care about her. I feel sorry that she’ll miss out on the love I have to give. But I feel most sorry that she won’t get to see that amazing grandson of hers grow up. Her hate will keep her at a safe distance from ever being in our lives.

  She thinks she’s going to win because her lawyer charges more per hour than ours. The judge doesn’t take that into consideration, though.

  So as we sit at this table, and the judge is about to begin, I just feel sad for the woman who was once my aunt and now is nobody to me.

  Our clasped hands are starting to sweat, our nerves getting the better of us. I pull my hand away but leave it on his thigh. I’m here for you whispers between our touches. I love you felt in each beat of our hearts.

  The judge stacks a file of papers loudly on the table in front of her and says, “I’ve reviewed everything from the will to each of your individual wishes. I’ve talked to Alfred Jet Barnett about his wishes because it matters what he thinks. We are here to find what is the best environment and situation for the child. We’ve already taken financial stability into account, and upon Mrs. Barnett’s request, we did a secondary formal evaluation of Mr. Crow’s assets and monies.”

  I don’t know how much Jet’s advance was for the album. I don’t know what his royalty cut will be after it releases. So I’m surprised when the judge says, “Congratulations on your record deal. That’s very exciting and the money in the account at the time of evaluation was recorded in the file.”

  “Thank you,” he says, his voice deep but soothing, calm even though I know he’s worried.

  The judge continues, “The situation has had a dramatic change that was not predicted, but is in the child’s best interest so I’m ruling full custody be given to Mr. Crow. As Ms. Nichols has given him her full support, no formal visitation schedule will be granted at this time. As a family, it is up to you to make sure this child receives the love where it’s given.” She looks at my aunt. “And if it’s given, which I hope it is, please put your differences aside for this child.”

  Jet’s head drops down, and he rubs his brow. His worries are expelled from his chest as he breathes out and relief is inhaled. “Thank God,” he mumbles under his breath. Taking my hand, he brings it to his mouth, kissing me openly.

  My aunt’s hands slam down on the glass table between us. “No!”

  Her lawyer is quick to warn her, “It’s not over.”

  Jet and I both turn back to the judge not sure what else there is. She says to us, “We understand that sometimes money can create issues among family members. Thank you for providing a copy of the insurance policy for the records—”

  Eileen asks, “What? Where did you get that, Hannah?”

  “I didn’t. I haven’t actually seen the policy, but you have, haven’t you?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Alfie’s my business. Cassie told us who the sole heir of her policy is, and it’s not you.”

  Jet’s relief turns to rage. “That’s the only reason you wanted my son? Not because he’s your own blood from your only daughter, but because he inherits a policy she was wise enough to take out right after having him and before she had cancer. Think about that, Eileen.” He stands, his fingers whitening as he presses on the table. “A twenty-year-old girl knew to protect her child, to take care of him in case anything happened to her. The question that remains is why she wouldn’t include you. But I think you’ve made your motive and intentions more than clear. She knew you best and didn’t trust you with her son or his inheritance. That’s what you’re left to live with.”

  “Mr. Crow, sit down,” the judge cautions.

  He does, but never takes his eyes off my aunt. She slides a file to our lawyer and then one to Eileen’s. “Alfred loves you very much. My opinion in custody cases is based on the children’s thoughts and preferences. Alfie has a lot of wonderful things to say about you and Ms. Nichols, who has helped him work his way through a very difficult time in his life. His love for you is obvious in the way he speaks about both of you. Take care of him and live happy lives. This case is resolved and will be recorded as I’ve already stated, giving full legal rights to Mr. Crow.”

  She wraps up with the formalities so they’re on the record, but then our lawyer taps our arms, telling us to go.

  The last time I walked out of the courthouse, it was with Eileen by my side. This time, it’s different. Not because I chose Jet over her, but because she chose money over blood. I’m tempted to stop and talk to her, extend an olive branch to make peace. I hate feeling unsettled in my emotions and the pain that frequently circulates inside me.

  I don’t stop.

  Holding Jet’s strong and protective hand, I walk by his side, knowing I’ve found the love I never thought I deserved. He saw me through the sadness and the pain of my past. He loved me when I didn’t love myself. He taught me we are worthy, whether together or apart.

  I am enough.

  Three Months Later . . .

  I’m restless in this sterile hospital waiting room. After three days of being here, I need good news. “I thought a stroke affected his motor skills and his speech. Why isn’t he coming back from this?”

  The doctor replies, “Your father has had a series of minor heart attacks. We were waiting for the tests to come back to confirm our suspicions.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we keep him here a little longer and supervise. He’s awake if you want to visit with him. The nurse will be in with his dinner shortly.”

  “Thank you.” When the doctor walks away, I hold out my hand to Alfie. “Come on. We can go back in now.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “I know, but let’s stop by for a few minutes to say hi.” Going home to an empty house isn’t something I’m particularly looking forward to either. It’s a lose-lose situation.

  He huffs expressing his unhappiness and drags his feet. “Your dad will be home tomorrow.”

  “I want him home now.”

  Jet’s been gone for two weeks doing promotions for the single they released. The day after hearing it played on the radio, he had to hop a flight to LA for interviews and to meet DJs a
round the country. “So do I, buddy.”

  He wanted to come home, but I told him to stay. This is what he was working so hard to do, and he had to be there to support his dream and his brothers.

  Once we’re in the hospital room, my father is awake. “Hi.” I almost called him Dad but stopped myself. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to live with grudges or regrets. It’s been a daily battle for me for years. After walking out of the courthouse with full custody, I hadn’t heard from my dad. Not until I got the call from his secretary that he had collapsed during a meeting. The anger suddenly subsided, and my heart softened. “How are you feeling, Dad?”

  Even though I know he can’t speak, his blinks at least let me know he hears me. When he looks at the table next to him, I track his gaze to a pen and pad. “You want to write?”

  Fast blinks and a grunt. Yes.

  I move the rolling table in front of him, and he moves his right arm, picking up the pen. Alfie is restless and bored, making noise over on the chair behind me as I wait to see what my dad writes.

  The paper is pushed toward me, and I pick it up. He’s never had particularly neat handwriting, but his struggle from the stroke is evident. The two words, though, are very clear. Two words I never thought I’d hear, much less read. But now that I’m seeing them and looking up at his tear-filled eyes, I realize they are all I need.

  I’m sorry.

  My tears fall, landing on the note and seeping into the paper. He holds his hand out, and just as I slip mine into his, his eyes close and his body shakes. Alarms sound, the ringing making me jump.

  Alfie pops up, pressing against me. “What’s happening, Hannah?”

  The terror in his voice causes me to turn and grab him, holding him to me. “I don’t know.”

  Nurses run in, the door propped open. One turns to me. “Please wait outside the room.”

  “No.”

  When she glances at Alfie, I realize it’s best for him. We wade through the nurses and get out just in time for the doctor to run in. Alfie asks, “What happened?”