As the cab pulled up, Jackson bent down to see eye to eye with my son.
Briggs pulled Charlie to the car, giving us a moment alone.
“You’re a good kid, short stack.”
“Thanks,” Cody said, his mouth pinched in a half-smile.
“I don’t want you to worry about your mom while you’re away. I promise I’ll watch out for her until you’re together again, alright?”
Cody nodded, glancing at me and then back at Jackson.
“Just make sure she keeps her necklace on.”
Jackson looked at me before responding. “The one with the angel wings?”
“Yep. It’s her guardian angel. She needs to keep it on,” Cody said.
My breath caught, the lump in my throat growing larger as I watched Jackson regard him.
“Okay, I will. I promise. Have a great time at soccer camp.”
“Okay.” Cody rushed Jackson, embracing him in a way that nearly pushed him off-balance. “Do you think you’ll visit us sometime—in Texas? Maybe come to one of my games?”
Jackson swallowed. “You’ll be my first stop if I do.”
Cody smiled. “Bye, Jackson.”
“Bye, kiddo.”
I looked at Jackson as Cody climbed into the back seat. His usual unreadable expression was replaced by something new—yet unidentifiable.
“Walt will be there at six to take them to the airport.”
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Angie.”
He kissed my cheek before stepping into a cab of his own.
I realized what I’d seen in his eyes as we drove back to the T. Ross building. In just two week’s time we’d be doing this again—only we’d be saying goodbye to each other.
Jackson’s face had reflected the answer.
He didn’t know what would happen after that.
And neither did I.
**********
As Cody got dressed for bed, I noticed a picture on his iPad…something he’d drawn recently.
“What’s this, Code?”
He glanced at me over this shoulder and shrugged when I picked up the device.
“It’s just a picture mom.”
My vision blurred immediately as I realized what I was looking at. I slumped onto his bed. It was not just a picture.
“Cody,” I breathed.
He stood and came toward the bed. “It’s a family.”
I could clearly identify Cody and myself—he’d been drawing us for half a decade—but the man next to me?
Cody pointed to the far corner, ignoring the question in my head. “And that…that’s my first dad.”
The man in a prison-like box off to the side had an X over his face. My stomach churned.
“But this over here…” Cody tapped the man next to me now, along with the other two figures. “This is our New York Family. That’s Jackson, and Pippy and Caleb.”
I pulled him into a tight hug and thanked God for such a beautiful child.
**********
It was just after midnight when I finally finished packing Cody’s suitcase and carry-on bag. He’d long since been asleep. My nerves had taken on an entity of their own—threatening to consume me with worry over his time without me.
Taking yet another deep, calming breath, I dragged myself into my bedroom and picked up my phone to set an alarm for our early morning wake-up. I put my hand to my mouth as soon as the screen lit. A message was waiting for me.
An email from Jackson.
I couldn’t fall asleep in good conscience knowing that I was still in your debt. Since I schooled you in air hockey—to which you so graciously accepted your fate as the loser—it’s only fair that I pay you back in kind.
So Angela Flores…here are your “Five Nice Things”:
Before I met you, I would have argued that humble and strong could never be synonymous. I would have been wrong.
Kindness is part of your genetic code—of this I’m nearly certain.
If the way you love your son was “standard issue” for parents everywhere, therapists around the world would be out of a job.
Your words never fail to match the goodness that’s in your heart—you’re gracious to a fault. (It’s quite annoying actually.)
Every minute that I’m not with you, I feel as though I’m missing out on one of God’s best kept secrets, one I’ve been privy to for reasons of which I am still unsure.
*Bonus (only because I hate playing by the rules): No matter if you’re lying on the bathroom floor recovering from food-poisoning, or drop-dead tired from a weekend full of drama and chaos…you could trump any and all definitions of the word beautiful. Any. Time.
And of this one I AM certain.
Sleep tight.
J
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I promise, Mom. I’ll call as soon as we land.”
I hugged him for the seventeenth time since walking outside to wait for Walt. “Okay. I’ll miss you so much, buddy.”
“I know. You keep saying that.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s because it’s true. Give Rosie a big hug for me, okay? And don’t forget to give her the gift I bought her. I wrapped it up in one of your t-shirts so it won’t break.”
“Got it.”
Briggs put his arm around me. “We’ll be fine, Ang.”
“I know. Okay. You’re right. It will be fine.”
He laughed.
“Just you wait. You’ll know what it’s like soon enough,” I said.
Charlie rubbed my back sweetly. “Yep, he will. And you can give him all the grief you want, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
Walt pulled up a second later. Cody introduced him to his uncle and aunt as Briggs loaded their bags in the trunk.
“Well…this is it. I love ya, sis. Don’t worry.”
Briggs gave me a hug and climbed into the back seat. Charlie was next.
“Enjoy your time as a single lady. This is New York, Ang. Live a little.”
“Ha! I don’t even know what that means.”
“Exactly,” Charlie laughed as she pulled me in for a hug.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing her arm to pull her back. “I’m really happy you’re making me an Auntie.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Me too, Ang. I want to be a mom just like you, ya know. I told Briggs that last night.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears of my own as she slid in next to Briggs.
“Okay, Code…one last hug,” I said.
“Really, Mom?” Cody unbuckled his belt from the front seat and hopped up onto the curb—again.
“Really. Hey—you’re not a teenager yet. You don’t get to be sassy about hugging your mama.”
He squeezed me tight. “I love you, Mom. I’ll miss you, too.”
I took a deep breath as I watched them pull away and wrapped my arms around myself. I couldn’t imagine what more than a night without Cody would feel like. And in that instant I doubted why I had ever agreed to stay. Why had I let them talk me into this?
My phone buzzed with a text.
Jackson: How ya doing, champ?
Me: Currently? Not so great.
Jackson: Take a deep breath. He’ll be fine. Repeat that. He. Will. Be. Fine.
Me: Thanks for your email last night. You’re better at “five nice things” than I thought you’d be.
Jackson: I meant every word.
Before I could respond, another text came through from him.
Jackson: The PR department will be joining us this morning. I thought you’d want to know.
Me: Oh…okay?
Jackson: It’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.
Nerves swirled in my gut as I made my way up to the apartment. It was the first time in a month that Cody wasn’t trailing beside me.
I can do this. Couldn’t I?
I stepped into the shower, allowing my anxieties about whatever was to come in the next few h
ours wash away as the hot water poured over me.
**********
I took my time getting ready, as if the extra minutes spent on my hair and makeup would bring me loads more confidence. I would pretend for now that it did. I slipped into a pair of black slacks and heels and buttoned up a silky, light-blue blouse. I also threw a change of casual clothing into a bag, unsure of all this day might hold.
I can do this.
I checked my phone on the way to the office, and sure enough Briggs had texted to say that they were fine, about to board, and that Cody was halfway through his second blueberry muffin.
I erased three possible text-replies back to him. All were way too neurotic sounding. I finally settled on: Sounds good!
It was just after eight-thirty when I arrived at Pinkerton. Though I always looked forward to seeing Jackson, I couldn’t shake the dread that seemed to overpower me with each step I took. I tried to clear my mind while I rode the elevator up, reminding myself to be open—like Jackson had asked me to be.
Pippy trotted toward me in heels that looked like they needed their own license, and hugged me. “Good morning! I was just coming to look for you. You doing okay without Cody? I was going to stop and get you a coffee on my way, but Mr. Ross told me you’d probably already had some since you were up so early, right?”
I smiled and tried to process the stream of information, picking up on the fact that she was back to calling Jackson Mr. Ross since we were back at the office. The girl was classy—no doubt.
“Yes, thank you though, Pippy—for thinking of me.”
“Of course. May I walk you to the boardroom?” Pippy glanced at me with a look of concern.
“Sure, thank you.”
I was nervous; I hated I was so nervous.
Jackson said I’ll be fine. I can trust him.
I do trust him.
I reminded myself of that fact over and over again.
I trusted the Jackson who had kissed me at his brother’s lake house.
I trusted the Jackson who had played air-hockey with me at Cody’s goodbye dinner.
I trusted Jackson who had emailed me “five nice things”.
Pippy stopped at large double set of doors. “Mr. Ross said to send you in when you got here.”
“Wait.” I put my hand out to stop her from opening the doors.
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Do you know…what this meeting is about?”
Her eyes softened. “No, but I’m sure it’s not anything that should worry you.”
That assurance didn’t exactly bring me comfort.
“Thank you, Pippy.”
“Absolutely, sis.” She whispered the last word and patted my shoulder before opening the door to let me in. Jackson and Dee went silent as they turned toward me. Six other faces stared at me—all sitting at a long, rectangular table—each I vaguely remembered seeing at a dinner a few weeks back.
Oh gosh, I’m gonna be sick.
“Good morning, Miss Flores.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Bradford,” I said, walking into the office as Pippy waved briefly and closed the door. Whatever this was, she hadn’t been invited.
Jackson walked up to me, his hand touching my arm briefly before gesturing for me to sit down in the chair at the far end of the rectangular table. “Good morning.”
Apparently this was Jackson-the-CEO—not Lake-Kissing-Jackson. I needed to get that straight. He was all professionalism here. Business-only.
I sat, the cushiness of the office chair barely registering. My heart was in my throat as I wrung my hands in my lap, the gaze of each man and woman creating enough heat to scorch my face.
“Can we get you anything before we begin? Coffee? Water?” Dee asked.
“No, thank you,” I croaked.
Jackson leaned back in the leather armchair at the opposite end of the table, watching me like a pot about to boil. Whatever this was, he was just as unsure of how I was going to respond as I was. Why?
Just then the door opened, and a face I had seen only once before entered the room.
What was his name again?
“Good morning, Mr. Vargus,” Dee said, smiling at him as he took his seat to the right of Jackson.
Stewart Vargus. That’s right.
Jackson’s posture stiffened as Stewart nodded at me, smiling. I remembered then, his kindness to me at the dinner party a month ago. He had introduced me to several people, keeping my company like a gentleman until Pippy had arrived. But when he’d asked me about setting up a meeting with him, Jackson had made it clear that no such thing would happen. “You have no business with Stewart Vargus,” he’d said. With all the other distractions, I hadn’t asked Jackson to expound on his statement that night, but I was certainly very curious now.
Dee remained standing—a fact that did not go unnoticed by me. She asked each man to introduce himself. They did so, each taking roughly five seconds to greet me. I wished I could say the formality made me feel better, more comfortable even, after all, each of them were as human as I was. But it didn’t.
Though Dee’s face looked calm, she walked over to the window where I could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She laced her fingers behind her back and took a deep breath.
“Though we regret what happened last Friday during your interview on The Eastman Morning Show, Miss Flores, it is time to do some damage-control. It is not only your future career that is in jeopardy, but the family tour that we’ve teamed you with, along with the integrity of our company it seems.”
Everything in me felt compressed and tight. I was sickened by the fact that the exposure of my past would be the cause of hurt for anyone. Dee had taken a risk on me—believed in me though I had never dreamed of any of the opportunities she had given me. And then there were those who had graciously accepted me into their circle even though I was the latecomer on the tour. My heart squeezed tight thinking about my new friends. The Zimmermans, who had co-authored their book of marriage tips and Sue Bolan, who had poured her heart out to serve and train adoptive parents.
I always admired Dee’s ability to speak eloquently. But although she was very professional in conduct and speech, she was never condescending. Instead, her voice held the unusual balance of compassion and authority. She turned toward the table fully, her tailored pantsuit hugging her curves as she moved. I felt Jackson’s gaze on me more than the rest, but trained my eyes to focus on Dee alone.
“After several lengthy discussions, we’d like to propose a change to our current marketing pitch concerning your upcoming book release and the remainder of this tour. In light of recent events we feel there is an opportunity that has presented itself—maybe even a moral responsibility. Miss Flores, what we’d like you to consider, is adding to your current platform as a single mom. We feel there is a way to salvage your fans and followers who might have been led astray by wrongful accusations that you haven’t been forthright. We’d like you to share your story of recovery and hope—by sharing about your past…openly. You would do this by making some substantial revisions and additions to your current blog, your future book, and also in your upcoming interviews.”
Every hair on my neck rose as she turned to face me.
I blinked, the men around the table waiting for a response from me, but I couldn’t find my voice.
Jackson leaned his elbows onto the table, his gaze intense as he stared at me from what felt like a continent away.
“Angie, do you understand what we’re asking?” Jackson asked.
I focused on him as my heart pounded hard within my chest. “I…I understand, yes. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to—”
“Well, I think you’d better get yourself ready, young lady,” said the man with the big nose directly to my right. “We have quite a large investment wrapped up in this family tour and because of your unwillingness to disclose certain pieces of vital information, that investment is now at risk.”
“That’s enough, Henry,” Jackson barked, red-fac
ed.
“Miss Flores and I had an understanding prior to her joining this tour that her privacy would stay protected,” Dee said firmly.” She is not the one to blame, Henry. Don’t forget that.”
“You knew she wasn’t a widow?” He asked her.
Dee glanced away. “It’s what I assumed.”
I swallowed hard as Henry piped in again, “No, it’s what she led us all to believe—and while I have compassion for her history, she should have been honest from the start!”
“Well, that is neither here nor there. What’s done is done,” said Ernie Smythe, an older man with stark black hair that I was almost certain wore a toupee. “The facts are that it’s not just Divina’s stunt that have caused an uproar. Though there are some that say publicity is publicity—no matter how ugly it is, we are not believers in that slogan. The online world has been making a mockery out us for not checking our facts…and out of you.” He stared at me.
“What are they saying?” I asked, my voice straining for sound.
They all looked at me with surprise on their faces. “Have you not been online, Miss Flores? To your blog site?” The question came from Stewart.
I opened my mouth, but Jackson cut in before I could utter a word in reply.
“I advised her not to until we had a game plan in place—do you have a problem with that, Stew?”
Jackson’s voice was a low growl. I held my breath at the tension that hung in the room. It was thick, uncomfortable and prickly all at the same time.
Stewart ignored Jackson and looked at me instead. “Divina’s objective was obviously to discredit you and undermine whatever favor you’d found in the public eye. But we feel that once you speak out, we can steer that course in a new direction—one that will profit you, sustain the company, and allow the tour to pick up momentum again.”
Every nerve in my body wavered, along with my mind, as I thought about what was being asked of me. The doors I had closed on my past, the lights I had switched on, the safety-net I had put in place…had it all been in vain? Or was this the path I was meant to take all along?
All Who Dream (Letting Go) Page 19