This was a showdown. It was like the wild, wild, west—only instead of a dusty dirt road in front of a saloon, it was an outdoor patio, on a summer night in rural Connecticut.
“What’s this about then?” she asked.
“Tell me why you invited me on this tour Dee, really?”
She squared her shoulders. “Because you’re talented.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Is that the only reason?”
Dee glanced out toward the water and then back to me. “You’re a mother, Angie. So you should believe me when I say that there is no greater pain than watching your child go through life unhappy. I would do anything for my son.”
Though my heart contracted at her words, I felt every last morsel of strength leak from my bones. “You told Jackson to work with me, then? With that hope that something might happen with us—romantically?”
“Angie, you likely know as well as I do that telling Jackson to do anything is a waste of breath. He rejected my motherly push to get to know you on a personal level prior to you coming out, but…” Her eyes twinkled at me. “But it looks like that’s changed.”
I leaned onto the railing, my stomach hollowing as I forced the words out, the truth that simultaneously burned my throat and broke my heart. “There’s nothing between Jackson and I, Dee.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
My head jerked up, the low voice jarring me back into reality.
Jackson walked toward me.
“You’re wrong about that,” he repeated.
I spun around, face to face with Jackson, my insides a mess of spams and knots. I watched Dee leave, winking at me as she slid the door closed behind her.
“You…you heard all that?”
He nodded.
Of course he’d heard. My life was anything if not a long list of badly timed events. I fought to swallow the ball of thick molasses that was working its way up into my throat. The anger I felt floated on the surface of my tears, carried by the current of my hurt.
As I blinked my tears away, my back was pushed up against the banister, Jackson’s hands in my hair, on the side of my face, his mouth dangerously close to mine.
“She may have asked me to be open to meeting you—but I have my own mind, my own eyes, my own…heart. Everything I’ve done regarding you has been because I wanted to do it, maybe even needed to do it. You’re not the only one who’s scared about what this is between us, Angie.” His breath was quick and shallow, skittering across my lips. “I’m scared, too.”
A whimper caught in my throat as I lifted my chin a fraction of an inch. It was the only invitation he needed. His lips met mine with such desperate fervency that I was grateful for the post at my back. His hands were in my hair and on my neck, killing any sense of self-control I had. It was the kind of kiss that made oxygen a second-rate commodity.
A quiet moan escaped me as he pulled back, chest heaving.
“I lied to you.” His voice broke my trance. “When I said I didn’t know what I wanted from you—I do know. I want to be with you, Angie. Every day. All the time.”
“Jackson-”
He pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “But I need you to know some things before you say anything—I need you to know me.”
“Okay,” I rasped into his shirt.
“Can we go to the dock?”
I glanced inside the house and nodded. “Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
As I walked onto the patio and down the steps after checking on Cody, Jackson grabbed my hand, lacing my fingers through his. In that moment I felt like a teenager, one that needed to text every friend I had to make sure that this was actually happening, that it was for real.
We rolled up our jeans and stuck our feet into the water. The air was still sticky with heat. He laid back, keeping my hand in his. I did the same.
The stars and moon were bright above us, illuminating his face perfectly as he stared up into the vast beyond. No matter what the future held for us, this moment was beautiful. He was beautiful. I wanted to memorize his face, to etch it into the confines of my heart.
“I met her in grad school—Livie. She was my polar opposite in so many ways, yet it was those very qualities that made me feel whole when I was with her. We were part of a study abroad group in Europe. It was an amazing time—traveling where we wanted, whenever we wanted. My major was in literature, hers was in art history.
“One night, while our group was asleep on the train, I had my first itch to write—to really write. My father had died earlier that year, and somehow when I wrote, I felt more connected to him than ever before. I started writing my first novel while aboard a train to Rome.
“Livie was my muse and my first reader. Within four months time I’d finished it. I was happy just to brush it under the rug uncelebrated and unpublished, but Livie wouldn’t allow it. She badgered me constantly until finally we came up with a plan—a pen name. I didn’t want the Ross name to publish me. If it was publishable, I wanted it to be published because of talent, nothing else. I sent it to the toughest publishing house I knew—Pinkerton Press—under my pen name. Amazingly it wasn’t rejected.
“Livie was ecstatic; I was in shock. I kept my identity a secret, handling everything through secured communication while I stayed overseas and continued writing. I wrote three books while I was in Rome, in just over a year’s time. I was on fire…on top of the world. By that time, my first book had been published, and the secret identity of my pen name seemed to boost sales and publicity. Right before Livie had to go back to New York to start her own career, I asked her to marry me, promising her that we would set a date once we were both back stateside.
“But once I arrived back in New York, things got even crazier. As year two hit, my fourth book was leaked onto the Internet, and I was forced to reveal my true identity to my publishers—who were also my family members. We took legal action and stopped the leak, and amazingly, we also managed to keep my name concealed. But all the while, I was too busy for anything or anyone. I was focused only on getting my last book out. Livie was patient, God knows she was so patient, but I just wasn’t ready to settle down, not even for her. I spent days in my office, typing. She would ask to go places, do things, and I would always arrange for her to go with someone else. That was how I eased my guilt.
“I was in the middle of writing the last book when a big group of family and friends took a winter vacation to Stowe, Vermont. We all stayed in separate cabins, using snowmobiles to travel between the lodge and ski areas. Livie was so excited; she was turning twenty-five during that trip and wanted to learn how to ski.”
He stopped then and scrubbed a hand over his face. I didn’t move, afraid he would shut down if I did. He took a deep breath and continued, as if fighting an inner battle.
“It was two days after Livie’s birthday when she came into my cabin and asked me to go with her to her lesson. But I was under so much pressure to get my first draft to my editor that I told her she needed to find someone else to go with her. We fought—probably the worst fight we’d ever had. I told her she was needy and high-maintenance, that she had to stop relying on me so much…and she told me that I was the most selfish man she knew.” He paused. “That was the last time I saw her alive.”
I gasped, “No. Jackson…”
“She took the snowmobile out to the mountain, but never made it to her lesson. She was with Jacob and his friend when she fell through a shallow spot in the ice on the lake.”
I sat up, staring down at him. Looking at his face caused me physical pain.
“And you blame yourself?”
He turned his eyes to me then and blinked.
“At first I blamed Jacob and his friend, thinking they could have done more for her…I pulled away from everyone. Jacob called, emailed, texted…but I refused to answer him. Though he didn’t give up on me for that entire year I avoided him, I had convinced myself I didn’t care about any of them. It was my mom who finally told
me Jacob had been diagnosed with cancer. That was two weeks before I took the company over to relieve him—to start being the brother I should have been the year prior when he was dealing with all of that on his own. Once again, I proved Livie’s words true. I am a very selfish man.”
“Oh, Jackson.”
I had no other statement. I felt his pain, his hurt, his sorrow…but most of all I felt his guilt.
He sat up, kicking his foot hard in the water, creating a splash.
“I’m so sorry-”
“Stop. Stop being sorry. I don’t want you to be sorry, Angie. I want you to hear what I did—who I really am.”
I shook my head, processing what he wasn’t saying. “So you working for the company, giving up your future as a writer, is what? Paying some sort of penance for fighting with Livie before she died and staying angry with Jacob even though you didn’t realize he was sick?”
He stared into the lake, silent. My heart ached for him, for the guilt he carried and the shame he refused to release. I picked up his palm and traced an invisible message onto it, the same way I did with Cody.
I pulled on his arm, forcing him to see me. “Do you know what we say at The Refuge? That the only way to let go of our shame is to stop acting ashamed.”
“I’m only trying to protect you, Angie. I don’t have a good track record when it comes to relationships. I was a horrible fiancé and an even worse brother.”
I leaned closer to him so that my forehead rested against his.
“I’m not afraid of getting close to you,” I whispered.
“That might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”
“Then I’m far past stupid.”
He shifted his face and cupped my cheeks with his hands. “Me too.”
And then he kissed me in the moonlight.
There was no hope for undoing what he’d begun inside me. I could no sooner undo the reflection of the moon on the lake, or the way the dew weighted the grass in the morning. My heart knew only this: it was made to love Jackson Ross.
We heard a loud whistle from the porch, followed by an announcement for cake and more rounds of toasting. Jackson chuckled lightly.
“You want to go back inside?” I asked softly.
“Sure.” He pulled me up and laced my fingers through his again as we made our way across the yard.
Just outside the patio door I pulled him to a stop. “Wait…what’s your pen name, Jackson?” My heart started beating a thousand miles a minute as I waited for his answer. He smiled mischievously, his eyes revealing the secret his mouth wouldn’t speak.
“Oh, my gosh!”
“Shhh…” Jackson laughed.
I stood, jaw open wide. “Rosie will seriously die…she will die! Oh. My. Gosh!”
“Well, I don’t want to be liable for that. I have enough legal trouble as it is.”
I punched Jackson in the arm. “You’re famous—like really, really famous.”
“No, Everett Jr. is famous,” he said, kissing my temple before he opened the door. “I’m just Jackson.”
I smiled wide. “There’s no such thing as just Jackson.”
With that, we slipped quietly into the back of the party crowd, watching Jacob as he made his way to the front of the living room near the cake. Jessie, Peter and Pippy stood by his side.
They were a beautiful family…one I would never forget.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The party went well into the evening—toasting, pictures, hugs and laughter. The Ross family knew how to celebrate, and I suspected Jacob’s zest for socializing had more to do with his remission from cancer than his need for a party. Several guests stayed over in the rooms upstairs, including Dee and Marcus. I was glad I’d have an opportunity to speak with her at breakfast in the morning.
Jackson had walked me to my room around midnight, shortly after Cody had fallen asleep. We agreed to keep our interactions under the radar since Cody was leaving in two days. There was still so much left to discuss—our honest conversations this weekend were only the beginning. In addition, I hadn’t the foggiest idea of how to talk to Cody about dating Jackson, but at least there was time for that. I had two weeks to figure that part out.
**********
I padded down the hallway to use the restroom around seven in the morning when I was immediately put on alert. Something was wrong. Loud voices, raised in anger came from the library—one of which I knew very well.
I had done more eavesdropping in this house than I had in my entire existence on earth, yet I couldn’t stop myself. Standing several feet away from the closed door, I listened intently. I could identify three of the voices: Dee, Jacob and Jackson.
“…never expected you to sign your life over, Jackson. We at least need to discuss it.”
“No. The company is not your problem to worry about anymore, Jacob. That was the whole point of you moving out here to the country. Let it be,” Jackson said.
“Let it be? You stepping in was only supposed to be temporary. You and I both know that Stew is more than capable of taking over. He may not be a Ross, but he worked with Dad and me for ten years. He knows the company better than anyone else. Please just think about it. I only want you to enjoy your life again…to write, to dream, to fall in love. Dad wouldn’t want this for you, and either do I.”
“You’re one to talk,” Jackson said.
“Jackson!” Dee’s voice was high, angry.
“It’s true! Where was our vote when you decided to stop treatments?”
There was silence for several seconds, and then I heard Jacob again, his voice soft, tender.
“That is not how I want to finish out my life. All of our days are numbered, mine are just shorter than most. I want to be me for as long I’m able to be, to know my kids’ voices and faces, to see sunsets and rainstorms, to kiss my wife and take her dancing…those are the things I want to fight for—not extra days pumped full of drugs, too sick to get out of bed. I’ve accepted it, brother. I hope you will, too.”
I didn’t hear Jackson’s response; I couldn’t. I put my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom, my throat tight as tears pricked my eyes. This weekend had been filled with emotional roller coasters, but this was biggest one of them all. Jackson’s gathering last night hadn’t been a birthday bash or a remission celebration. I understood the purpose clearly now.
He was making memories with the people he loved.
He wasn’t going to get better.
He was dying.
**********
Breakfast was difficult.
I could hardly look at Jacob without wanting to cry. Everyone else seemed to function normally. I didn’t understand that. Pippy had never let on that her dad was…that he was still sick. I pushed my plate away, no appetite present.
“Good morning,” Dee said, sipping on coffee.
“Good morning,” I said, trying to clear the thoughts of cancer and death from my mind.
“I hope you slept well last night,” she said. “It looked like your evening improved after I left the patio?”
I flushed. “Yeah, about last night, Dee—”
She waved her hand in the air, “No need, darlin’. I’m just glad you two had a chance to…talk.” She smiled.
I wondered what she saw—or what she knew. I couldn’t imagine Jackson being open with his mom about the current status of our relationship, but she was a smart woman. Dee wouldn’t need the full scoop to know something had changed.
I smiled, touching the pendant at my neck.
“I arranged with Pippy to meet with you and Jackson on Tuesday afternoon.”
My eyes snapped back to hers, panic fueling my veins.
“To talk about our next steps of actions, regarding your book and fans.”
I exhaled. “Yes, we need to talk about that.”
“She told me your son was about to go back to Texas, so I figured we could wait another day. I’ll be in town all week. I have some meetings at the company I need to atte
nd.”
“Well, thank you. My brother and his wife should be in New York tomorrow afternoon. They are going to stay for a couple nights and then fly back with Cody so he can go to soccer camp. It will be the longest I’ve ever been without him—almost two weeks.”
Dee looked at me with compassion, “I remember those days well. I’m glad you have family you can trust.”
Yes, so am I.
We chatted for a while longer, drinking coffee as several others joined us. Two aunts, a few cousins, and a couple from Chicago were present by the time Jackson sat down at the table beside me. He looked like he always did—capable and in control, but still my heart ached for him. I hated knowing what I knew. I hated that I had heard it the way I did.
It was not information I could forget, no matter how hard I tried.
I replayed my conversation with Jackson on the dock last night many times, trying to get a handle on his fierce loyalty to the company—one he has no passion to work for. I knew he felt indebted to it for reasons beyond my limited understanding, but this morning had shed new light on the topic.
Jackson wasn’t only trying to right his past wrongs, to relieve his guilty conscious…he was trying to barter with God. His life for Jacob’s.
The only problem was: God doesn’t barter.
“What’s the problem?”
I jumped a little at his voice in my ear.
“Just tired,” I said. “Spacing-out, I guess.”
“You’ve been staring at that same spot on the wall for several minutes.”
I laughed, weakly. “What time do we need to leave?”
“I need to finish up some things here with Jacob. Is two or three okay with you? I know you need to get back to pack for Cody.”
“Yeah, that will be fine.” I smiled at him, wishing I could take his hand…or kiss his face…but we were in a house full of eyes. “I was thinking I might try and read some more. I’m dying to know what Detective Quinton is up to.”
Jackson shook his head, turning so his face was pointed in the opposite direction as the group seated at the table. “I knew I should have kept that a secret from you for a while longer.”
All Who Dream (Letting Go) Page 16