All Who Dream (Letting Go)

by Deese, Nicole

  Jackson leaned on the rail next to me. I could feel the heat of his body before he spoke.

  “I never expected this.”

  I knew exactly what he meant; I hadn’t either.

  Yet, it was one surprise I wouldn’t trade for anything.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Unfortunately, once we got back inside to the saloon to enjoy the remainder of the evening, fate had other plans for us. As I turned toward Jackson on the couch, hoping to continue our conversation from the deck, his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked at me.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Didn’t you have your necklace on tonight—the one with the angel wings?”

  My hand went to my neck only to discover that it was bare. Panic fueled every cell in my body as I stood, hoping that a spotlight from heaven would illuminate the frail chain and pendant. No such thing happened.

  “It’s okay—let’s just retrace our steps,” Jackson said, taking charge in my frantic state.

  I nodded, my hand still at my throat.

  But somewhere never revealed itself.

  As we searched the Aft Deck, I was suddenly struck with a sinking feeling, one that twisted and gnawed at my insides as I remembered.

  The wind.

  I had leaned into the wind over the railing to look into the dark waters below. Had it slipped off my neck? The ocean was the only place we couldn’t check.

  Though I would have liked to believe that the strength it took to overcome years of physical abuse would keep me from breaking down over some small trinket tonight…it did not.

  Losing that pendant was as if a part of me had been severed from my body.

  There was no way to describe the kind of value that necklace had held for me, or the hope it had provided over the last eleven years. It was the last gift I’d ever receive from my Granny; the last connection to her unwavering faith. So many times I’d been empowered by its steady presence. Because of it, so many conversations had begun with Cody about the importance of believing in what is unseen, and so many tears and prayers had been absorbed within its delicate design.

  In a blink the treasure was gone.

  After a full hour of combing the yacht with the help of Captain Cogs and his staff, I had to no other choice but to accept my dreaded theory. Jackson shook the crewmember’s hands as we left, and I did my absolute best to hold it together until we got into Jackson’s car that he had parked at the marina. The second I sat down in the passenger seat an explosion of grief burst from inside my chest. If only my embarrassment of such a display was more powerful than my feelings of sadness and loss in that moment, but that was not the case.

  Though the engine was running, Jackson didn’t move, except to pull my head onto his shoulder as I cried. He was quiet as he rubbed my arm softly.

  “I’m...sorry,” I said between sniffles, “This…is a horrible way…for me to be…after such a great night.”

  He laughed lightly and brushed his hand over my hair, moving strands away from my face. I was sure I looked like a hot mess of mascara and snot. Again though, my care-factor seemed to be as lost as my necklace for the moment. I took a few deep breaths, calming myself as Jackson finally put the car into reverse and exited the marina. We rode quietly, each lost in our own thoughts. My eyes that felt swollen from crying. Just when I thought I might have pushed him away due to my female inclinations, he said the one thing that could justify my emotional response to such a loss.

  “You’ve had that necklace for a long time, haven’t you?”

  I smiled weakly. “It had belonged to my Granny—I think I told you about her before?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, she collected the angels, right?”

  I swallowed the thickness in my throat. “Right. I got the necklace in the mail randomly—about six months after she passed. It’d been given to her on her wedding day by my grandpa whom I never met. She said it was her guardian angel, and that is what she always called him. I’ve worn it every day since I was eighteen.” Several rogue tears escaped down my cheeks. “My necklace and my black journal were all I had from my old life in Colorado. Cody’s never seen me without it on.”

  “He was pretty sure it was your guardian angel, too. I remember him saying that.”

  I nodded.

  Jackson left his car with the valet and walked me up to my door, despite my insistence that the courtesy wasn’t necessary. Naturally, he ignored my protest. I took my key out as he placed his hand on top of mine, stopping me from inserting it.

  “If there was any way for me to get the necklace back for you—I would.”

  I turned to him, tears filling my eyes again. “Thank you, Jackson. I know you would. Despite this necklace drama, the night really was perfect. I loved everything you planned.” I put my hands on his chest as I looked up at him. “I’ll never forget it.”

  He touched my cheek. “I won’t either. Goodnight, Angie.”

  “Goodnight.”

  He kissed me on top of my head before I walked inside and shut the door behind me.

  Lost

  How can one measure the value of invaluable?

  How does one quantify the price of priceless?

  Worth does not coincide with a cost,

  Importance can’t be found on a scale.

  True treasure may be absent of wealth,

  For a fortune is known only by the heart.

  I was up early Sunday morning—due in part to my unusual sleeping habits of late. It was too early to chat with Cody, and I was sure my brother wouldn’t appreciate his cell ringing at this hour, especially on his weekend off. Instead, I trudged my way to the restroom.

  After showering, I decided it was best to avoid the mirror, as my bloodshot eyes were evidence that my necklace was indeed gone. The loss wasn’t just an awful dream like I had hoped. Sigh.

  Pippy texted last night to remind me of the lunch date at 1:00 this afternoon with the authors on the family tour. It was going to be my first time seeing them since the drama with Divina. Though there was only a week left of signings and interviews, I couldn’t help but feel like I had been ostracized from the pack. Jackson had assured me that working on the revisions of my book were my top priority now, but I wondered if they saw it the same way.

  I guess I’d find out soon enough.

  I decided to take advantage of my unplanned downtime and read Book Two in The Quinton Chronicles. After reading the prologue, I had unknowingly traded my humble setting for a life of criminal investigations. I was completely absorbed. I held my breath numerous times, gasped out loud, and shed more than one tear as the dynamic between Detective Quinton and Reagan had begun to change. He was finally beginning to trust her instincts as she proved herself to him more and more. I bit my lip as I got to the climax of the story; my heart was racing.

  Reagan had just walked to her car after leaving the precinct for the night, not knowing that the brother of the drug lord who had recently been murdered, would be waiting for her. I was a ball of nerves as I drew my legs up underneath me.

  She pulled the door open and slumped hard into the driver’s seat as she rolled her neck from side to side. The long day had stretched into an even longer night, but the grueling hours had been well worth it. A small smile tugged at her lips as she put the key into the ignition. Quinton had finally acknowledged her efforts—finally given her the pat on the back she had been waiting for since their partnership began six months ago.

  She turned the key, but nothing happened. She tried again, furrowing her brows in frustration as a light clicking sound was the only indication she had done anything at all. Reagan had just upgraded her car, trading in her old model for newer one, for precisely this reason. She hated falling prey to a world of mechanical issues—one she knew nothing about—so instead, she was meticulous about the demands of proper car maintenance. Always.

  What’s going on? But the answer found her before her mind had time to fully process her question.

  Her seatbelt
tightened on her chest, digging in to the side of her neck as a rough hand covered her mouth. She bucked her head forward, trying to loosen the suffocating grasp, but to no avail. She pawed at her door, frantic to find a way to escape. Her attempt was only met with a harder pull as the belt strangled her against her seat.

  “Stop squirming, Princess. I have no problem letting you die right here.” The dark voice behind her said.

  She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself as the raw panic of adrenaline surged through her body. Finally, the belt slacked enough for her to breathe through his thick fingers.

  “There you go. Now listen carefully-”

  The phone next to me shrilled, and I almost jumped off the couch. I fumbled with the answer button, dropping the cell twice before succeeding in answering.

  “Hello?” I said, my voice a higher than-pitch than normal.

  “Hey…you okay?” Jackson asked.

  I blew out a deep breath. “No I’m not okay…I’m about to have an anxiety attack while reading your book!”

  He chuckled. “What part?”

  “Oh, uh, well, let’s see…the part where you let Reagan walk into a death trap in her car. Jackson, you better have Quinton come out and save her, or I swear I will throw this book at your head the next time I see you.”

  He laughed harder.

  “I’m serious, Jackson.”

  “I know…that’s what’s so funny.”

  “This is why I don’t read this genre…I cannot handle the suspense. I hate it.”

  “Oh, so you just want to read the kissing scenes then? Is that what you’re saying?”

  I flushed instantly, biting my lip as a smile spread over my face.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Well, I would gladly reenact some of those with you, but I actually need to head out of town for the day—possibly overnight.”

  “Oh?” I said, trying to keep my disappointment off his radar. Too late.

  “Yeah. Something’s come up that I need to deal with—work related.”

  Code for: I’m not going to tell you.

  “Oh…I hope everything’s okay? It not…Jacob, right? You’d tell me if something had happened?” My throat suddenly went tight.

  “He’s fine, but I’ll tell him you said hello.”

  So Jacob’s a part of this spontaneous trip? Interesting.

  “Ang?”

  “Yeah?” I asked, realizing I had zoned out for a second.

  “Yes, I’d tell you something like that.”

  My heart warmed. “Thanks.”

  “Hope lunch is good today.”

  Crap! I jumped up, letting the book fall off my lap onto the floor as I pulled the phone away from my ear to check the time.

  12:30 p.m. stared back at me. I pushed the door open to my bedroom.

  “Oh my gosh...I have to go. I totally lost track of time while reading your dang book!”

  He gut-laughed into the phone again, causing me to momentarily forget why I was so panicked.

  “I’ll let you go…for now. I’ll call you tonight. Hope you can get to the kissing scene by then.”

  “Whatever. Bye, Jackson.”

  “Bye, sweetheart.”

  I tossed the phone on my bed and smiled, replaying his voice in my mind. That word would never grow stale. Nor could my feelings for the man who spoke it.

  *********

  Lunch turned out to be a lot of fun, although I was fifteen minutes late.

  Pippy, of course, was a ball of energy, buzzing in and out of every conversation as many topics were discussed—most lighthearted in nature. My heart warmed as I looked at each author, appreciating them all for different reasons. They were a wonderful mix of wisdom, humor and friendship.

  The drama from my interview with Divina was not talked about—and I was incredibly grateful for that graciousness, although they did address the new forward for my book. My stomach dipped when Mr. Zimmerman brought it up, but he only offered his encouragement and support. His sincerity caused my eyes to water. Sue Bolan squeezed my shoulder as we parted ways, nodding her head at me in affirmation. My relief was apparently quite obvious, especially to the little spitfire who sat next to me.

  “Want to get Ice cream?” Pippy asked as we sat at our now deserted lunch table.

  I smiled. “How is it that you’re so tiny—when I swear you eat sugar like most people drink water?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it’s the green smoothies.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I highly doubt that, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  She looped her arm in mine as we exited the building and made our way onto the street. Instantly, my body craved the air-conditioning once again. It was hot—probably the hottest day I’d experienced while in New York City. Pippy didn’t seem bothered by the temperature, and since I was the one who resided in Texas, I didn’t say a word either.

  “I noticed your dad drinks these green concoctions too,” I said, testing the topic with her.

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, he’s the one who got us hooked, actually. They’ve done great things for him since…since his diagnosis.” Her smile remained intact, and her expression was still light, but the hesitancy in her words hit home.

  “I really enjoyed meeting your parents, Pippy. Cody told me yesterday how much he missed his New York family.”

  “Aww…that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said, squeezing my arm a little tighter as we continued to walk.

  The Ice Cream Shop was two blocks away. I had never been more grateful for ice cream in my life as sweat ran down the back of my neck and into my shirt. My long, black shorts stuck to my legs with each step we took.

  “How’s Caleb?” I asked.

  She smiled, goofily. “Wonderful.”

  I chuckled. “Good.”

  “How’s Jackson?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she asked. I rolled my eyes a tad before answering. “He’s…a little bit of wonderful as well.”

  She squealed, scaring an old lady who clutched her chest as she passed out table.

  “You loved the yacht, right?” Pippy asked.

  The question startled me. “How did-”

  “I know all things,” she gloated, briefly. “Well, I just know his schedule mostly. I’m the one who arranged for your car service.”

  “Oh, well…thanks. Yes, it was a great night.” I decided to leave out the part where I lost my most valuable earthly possession. I was trying to keep my mind off that depressing fact.

  “Awesome.”

  “Have you…” I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to know the answer to my next question. “Have you set up many dates for Jackson?”

  Pippy laughed. She tugged open the door to the Ice Cream Shop and shook her head.

  “Ha!—No, he’s hasn’t really dated since-”

  “Since Livie?” I finished.

  She nodded, touching each flavor label on the glass that protected the ice cream from the heat. It was as if she was waiting for one to speak to her: “Pick me,” or “I’m the one you’ve been searching for.” The unconscious action was quite amusing.

  Pippy finally decided after sampling her top five while I stuck with my old faithful: Cookies n’ Cream. Who could turn down Oreos crushed into vanilla ice cream?

  We sat inside the tiny parlor at a table that barely held our cups and spoons. “So, they were really…in love?” I asked, trying to sound casual about it all…like I was talking about a dog I saw at the park.

  Pippy looked at me with compassion. Clearly, she fully comprehended the intent of my question.

  “Yes, they were really in love…but that was years ago.” She pursed her lips before continuing, “Listen, Angie…you do not need to worry. He’s had a few dates, gone out with a couple of women since Livie…but there has been no one like you. Not even close.”

  “What was he like—before he came to work at the publishing house?”

  Pippy smiled as if recalling a found memory. “He was…relaxed.
Weird, huh? I mean, he’s always been annoyingly brilliant. Even as a young child I knew that much. But since he’s been here…I don’t know how to describe it, really. He’s just always on alert. He doesn’t miss anything, and yet, he misses everything at the same time.”

  My heart seized at her keen judgment of him. I nodded in full agreement.

  “The day he showed up at the office, I was working as an assistant to one of the secretaries. I was a senior in high school, so I had my afternoons free.” She scraped the inside of her dish, carefully getting every last drop of ice cream onto her spoon. “But it was really crazy to see him there…my dad was totally shocked when he walked into the board meeting and Jackson was there, sitting at the table.”

  I listened intently. “So your dad didn’t ask him to come?”

  She shook her head. “No. He knew Jackson’s dream was to write—he never wanted him to give that up, not for anything. He was preparing his successor, but Jackson…”

  “What? Then why did he do it? If someone else could take over the company…then why did he do?”

  Pippy stared into her dish, suddenly quiet.

  I realized then how insensitive I must have been to ask these questions of her—when her father, who was the former CEO, was at home, dying.

  I reached for her hand. “I’m sorry about your dad, Pippy.”

  She looked up, and smiled faintly. “Thanks, Angie,” she said, spooning her last bite into her mouth. “That topic doesn’t make me uncomfortable—just so you know. We’re really open about it within our family. We talk about it a lot.”

  Why was Pippy suddenly so uncomfortable then…if the issue wasn’t about her dad? I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t about to monopolize the conversation again. I cleared my throat.

  “Jackson said you all decided together—about his treatments?”

  She nodded, a sweet expression gracing her delicate features.

  “Yes,” she said, tucking her short dark hair behind her ear. “I cut all my hair off when he did his first round. We matched.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she pulled her phone out to show me a picture. Her dark hair was practically non-existent in the photo, many inches shorter than the pixie-cut she sported now, but her warm expression of love was the same one she wore now.