by Reese Ryan
Jamie buried her face in her hands but found herself laughing hysterically. She could barely get the words out. “You’re grateful to them for raising your daughter? Like a normal person is grateful that someone held a door open for them or something? Do you have any idea how unselfish two people have to be to take in a damaged kid? Or how much they sacrificed?”
Jamie dropped onto the couch, in a seat that was physically as far away from Josephine as possible. She looked over at the woman and watched as tears streamed down her face.
“I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, but the truth is all I got. I couldn’t take care of you because I was so broken inside myself.”
Jamie’s hands were shaking. She needed a drink, something with some kick. Like premium vodka. Straight. Or maybe something stronger. Something Ex might have.
She took a deep breath and released it, counted to ten. No. She didn’t want drugs and she didn’t need liquor. She was a fucking adult and she could deal with a little crisis. Besides, she could make Jo leave whenever she wanted. This was her home and she didn’t owe Josephine Charles a damn thing.
Jamie looked over at Jo, still sobbing and apologizing over and over—though Jamie could barely make out the words through her muffled tears.
She’d promised Ellie she’d at least give her a chance to explain so she could get some closure. Maybe start to feel like a real person again. What she felt for Miles proved that she wasn’t completely dead inside, despite the scarred wreckage that Leo’s base perversion had left in its wake. So she’d suck it up and listen.
“You said you were broken. Why?” Jamie focused on Jo’s face. She deserved an explanation.
“I grew up on a farm in Georgia. My parents...they liked to drink. A lot. On the outside we seemed like the perfect family. But when it was just us, everything was different. They fought all the time. My daddy hit her, but always in places people wouldn’t see. It was awful. I can still remember hearing them fight at night, hearing Momma scream.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “When I was little I’d try to help her, and I’d ask my daddy why he made her cry. They’d tell me to go back to my room, and they threatened to beat me if I ever told anybody. So I didn’t. I should have.” She shook her head, wiping her face on her sleeve. “But I was too scared.”
Jamie shifted in her seat, her head tilted and her brows drawn in. Hadn’t lying practically been a pastime for Jo? Why should she believe her now? She carefully regarded Jo’s face, but none of her usual tells were there. She seemed sincere, but why would she suddenly come clean about this now, after all these years? “You’ve never said anything about this before.”
“I know,” she said. Her eyes widened a bit. She seemed hopeful. “I was ashamed. I didn’t want anyone to know about my family or what a coward I was—not even your daddy.”
Jamie turned her head slightly, as if changing the view on a kaleidoscope to see if her perception of Josephine would change. She didn’t want to feel pity for the woman, but no matter how she looked at her the tears, the pain, seemed real.
“You said Grandma and Grandpa died in a car accident. Is that what really happened?”
The tears started to stream down Jo’s face again. She shook her head. “I ran away from home when I was sixteen. Got a job with a traveling carnival. I met your daddy when we stopped here. He was one of the local hired hands, a college student. We fell in love. I never wanted to have anything to do with my family again, so I told him my parents died in a car crash. Mattie was a few years older than me. His parents didn’t approve, but he married me anyway. So they cut him off. Wouldn’t pay for his college tuition anymore. They wouldn’t even see him as long as he was with me. It really hurt your father, but he loved me...and he loved you.”
“You were pregnant with me when you got married?”
Josephine nodded. “That’s why he was determined to get married. Wanted you to have his name, in case his parents ever came to their senses and wanted to see their grandchild.”
Jamie pulled her legs onto the couch and sucked in a deep breath, still unsure whether to believe her. “Are they still alive? Your parents, I mean.”
Jo closed her eyes, pain etched in her face. “He hit her so hard she fell through a plate-glass window. She bled to death before someone discovered him in the front yard, holding her body and crying.”
“How’d you find out?”
“I kept in touch with one girl from town. We were good friends and I knew she’d never tell nobody where I was. She sent me a letter and told me that he killed her and hung himself in jail.” Josephine swiped at the tears coming down her face. “By the time I got the letter, it was too late to go to the funerals. But even if I’d known in time, I don’t think I would’ve gone because—”
Jamie looked at her. “Because you could never forgive them for what they’d done to you?”
Josephine’s face fell. She bit her lip and nodded. “I hated them both, and I’d promised myself I’d never be anything like them, but when I got that letter, something in me snapped and I started to turn into them. I was drinking all the time, and I was always angry at you and at your father. I know it’s no excuse, but I thought if you understood—”
“But I don’t.” Jamie’s voice wavered, even as it grew louder. “If you had such an awful childhood, you must have known what that was like, what it would do to me. At least your mother probably had no idea how horribly you’d end up if she treated you like shit. But you...you knew what effect it would have on me. Yet you did it anyway.”
“It wasn’t something I wanted to do. But the more I drank to try to dull the pain, the more out-of-control I became. I never meant to hurt you. I told myself I was making you a better person. A stronger person. And you are strong. You were one of the toughest little girls I’ve ever known.”
Jamie’s heart beat faster. She was so angry she almost believed flames would shoot from her eyes if she concentrated hard enough. Just one stare, and Josephine Charles would go up in a cloud of vodka, smoke and whatever the hell else she was on. “Are you seriously going to sit here and tell me you made me tough, like it’s some consolation prize I should gratefully accept? ‘Hey kid, you had shitty parents and a miserable home life, but at least you didn’t cry when you skinned your knees.’ Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Jamie needed to think, to regain control. This was her house, and she wasn’t going to let anyone—especially Josephine—come in and make her feel guilty. She wasn’t the one who should be feeling guilty.
Jamie turned to face Josephine, still sniffling. She surveyed the woman. Mrs. Jacobs was right. She did look like Jo. It was hard for her to see it at first. Years of hard living had carved deep lines into Jo’s forehead and she looked perpetually tired. Her eyelids drooped and there were deep crow’s feet around her eyes and lines around her mouth. But when Jamie peered deep down, beyond all of the exterior damage, there it was—an image of her own face lay beneath those hard lines and wrinkles.
She’d almost forgotten how people would remark that she looked just like her mother when she was a child. But she could see it now, clear as day. It scared her to think that one day that face—Josephine’s face—would be hers. Her hand drifted to her cheek.
Jo finally broke the silence between them. “Say something, anything. I came here to beg for your forgiveness and to tell you the truth about who I was, about why I did the things I did. Why I couldn’t be the mother to you I shoulda been.”
Jamie cut her eyes at Josephine, rage building in her chest. She jabbed her finger in Jo’s direction. “You think growing up in a shitty family gives you a pass on being a mother to your only child? Well, it doesn’t. You should’ve been there for me, no matter what. You were supposed to protect me. That was your one job and you couldn’t even fucking do that.”
“Jamie, I’m so—”
“Excuse me.” Jamie bolted to the bathroom and slammed the door. She was barely inside before hot tears stung her eyes and left a trail down her f
ace. How could she let Jo—a woman who never gave a shit about her—show up and turn her world inside out?
All those years she’d hated her parents, she’d barely shed a tear. Now the anger and resentment were back, but failing her. Her fury had always made her strong as steel. But now those feelings were entwined with a pain and anguish she hadn’t allowed herself to experience before. It was like watching someone you love stab you in the heart with a dagger, then twist it.
She sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the tub, sobbing. Fuck closure. Right now she’d settle for distance. For Jo to be gone so she could go back to the way things were. Sure she was a certifiable mess, but she had it under control. Like a juggler carefully balancing spinning plates. But one false move and everything would come crashing down. She wasn’t sure if talking to Jo or being with Miles was that wrong move, but every one of those damn plates was shattering around her. Reminding her of her father leaving without a word. Of those nights Leo crept into her room, and the panic that filled her chest. The room was spinning. Her chest burned and her stomach ached. She just wanted it to stop. All of it.
“Jamie.” Jo tapped on the door. “You okay?”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to keep her voice level. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Jamie, please, let me in.”
“I said I’m fine. Please, just go away.”
Jamie listened for retreating footsteps. She climbed to her feet and washed her face. She wouldn’t give Jo Charles the satisfaction of knowing that she’d come in and made her world fall to pieces...again. She splashed her face with cold water and squeezed a few drops in her eyes, blinking until they felt better. When she returned to the living room Jo wasn’t there or in the kitchen.
“Jo?”
“I’m in here.”
Jamie followed her voice into the studio. Josephine stood in front of the easel, staring at the painting of Miles as if she were hypnotized by it, transported to another place.
“He’s handsome. But that’s probably what attracted you to him, huh? That’s what got me.” Her voice was so soft, Jamie could barely hear her. She smiled wistfully and put a hand to her cheek. “Those eyes...it’s like they can see right through you. Like they know you the second you look into them. And that smile... God, your father could light half the city with his smile.”
Jamie didn’t respond. Instead she stood with her back against the wall near the door.
Josephine gestured toward the photos. “How long have you been seeing him?”
Jamie shrugged. “A couple of months, I guess.”
“You two look beautiful together. You really like him. I can see it in your eyes.” Jo smiled.
“He’s a decent guy.”
“Where’d you meet him?”
This wasn’t a social visit. She didn’t want to talk about Miles. Mel didn’t even know about him, and she was going to tell the last person in the free world she’d ever want to have an intimate conversation with? Yet she opened her mouth and answered the question anyway. “He was a customer at the bar where I work.”
“What does he do? For a job, I mean?” Alarm registered on Josephine’s face.
“He’s an ad exec. Why?”
Josephine nodded. She studied the pictures of Jamie and Miles clipped around the easel. “He looks like a guy that’s had it good all his life. Good family, right?”
Jamie nodded, not speaking.
Jo took in a deep breath, like she was dragging on her last cigarette. “Your father was the best thing, and the worst thing, that ever happened to me. We were so different. In the beginning, we loved each other like crazy. We were young and passionate. But it wasn’t enough to keep us going. He didn’t understand what it’s like to come from nothing, to have nothing. We fought all the time, even before I lost it over my parents. We were just too different. In the end, that never works.”
“I finally meet a guy who makes me feel good about myself and you’re telling me I should dump him? You can’t stand the thought of me being happy, can you? Not even for a minute.” Jamie headed for the kitchen. She needed another cup of coffee, this one spiked with a healthy shot of Kahlua. Right after she showed Jo Charles the door. “It’s time for you to go,” Jamie said. “I mean it. I can’t take any more of your ‘mothering’ for today.” She picked up Jo’s coat and practically tossed it at her. Better that than a skillet. “If you need a ride, I’ll give you money for a cab.”
“I wasn’t trying to upset you. It’s the truth. Deep down, you know it, too. People like that don’t get people like me and you, no matter how hard they try. Not in the end. Not when it counts. I don’t want to see you get hurt—”
“You don’t want to see me get hurt?” Jamie walked toward Jo, fists clenched so tightly her nails dug in her palm. The woman retreated until she fell backward in the chair. “Coming from a woman who ran off with the pedophile who molested her daughter while she was in a drunken stupor, that doesn’t mean much. I had to fend for myself then, so I don’t need your concern now.”
Jamie’s knees felt like they were giving way. Stumbling backward, she sat on the coffee table, completely drained. She’d finally said the words aloud. Only one other person knew about what Leo had done to her. The therapist she’d seen after the accident. No one else knew. Not Melanie or Ex. Not Ellie or Lou.
She raised her eyes to meet Josephine’s. The woman sat there, her mouth frozen in an O like in Edvard Munch’s painting, The Scream, her hand covering her mouth. She shook her head, gently at first, then more rapidly, tears streaming down her face. “No. No. No. He couldn’t have...he wouldn’t have—”
“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. That’s why I never told you.”
Jo’s face was as red as a fire hydrant. She clutched her stomach, like she’d been kicked in the gut. Her silent tears turned into a keening wail.
Jamie sat frozen, gut churning. She’d been sure that Jo at least suspected what Leo had done to her. Looking at her now, she knew it wasn’t true. Jo had been so engulfed in her own issues that she’d been oblivious to how he’d devastated her.
Her thoughts swirled, destructive emotions cycling through her brain like a slow poison. Anger. Hatred. Resentment. Part of her was glad to see Jo wounded and bleeding. Another part of her felt guilty about it. Jamie gripped the edge of the coffee table, barely breathing.
Jo slid to the floor in front of Jamie and threw her arms around her waist. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t know. Please forgive me.”
Jamie’s back stiffened, arms suspended in the air. Her mind warred with whether to shove Jo to the ground or hug her back. She was compelled to do both, yet neither action felt right. Slowly her arms lowered, resting lightly on the woman’s back.
They stayed like that for what seemed like forever. Finally Jo raised her eyes to hers. “I swear to you, I had no idea. I would never have gone away with him, chosen—”
“Him over me?” Jamie’s spine stiffened again. “Because that’s exactly what you did. You chose a child rapist over your own daughter. How do you think that makes me feel?” Hot tears slid down her face. She wiped them angrily with the back of her hand. “How could you possibly make that up to me?”
Josephine slumped against the chair and buried her face in her hands.
Jamie climbed to her feet, her knees nearly buckling beneath her. She was exhausted. All she wanted was a nap and to pretend none of this had happened. She staggered toward her bedroom, not bothering to turn back. “Just close the door on your way out.”
Chapter Fifteen
Miles tugged his T-shirt over his head and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He’d made a pretty impressive dinner for tonight, but Jamie was barely in the door before she’d stripped him down to his boxers. Not that he minded. The sex had been amazing. Only he was a little worried about her. She’d seemed...driven. Like the sex wasn’t about him at all, but something bigger. Something she didn’t want to talk about. To be hone
st, there hadn’t been much time for conversation during the past few hours in which they’d done everything but eat dinner.
He glanced up at the bedroom where Jamie lay in bed. He’d given up on getting them to the table and offered to warm dinner and bring it upstairs. Maybe that would give him time to figure out how to approach her about what was really bothering her.
Miles turned on the oven to warm their food and looked for the trays Mimi had picked out for him. He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a long breath. Jamie.
The girl was driving him crazy. He was addicted to her. When they were apart, brief, vivid memories would sometimes flash through his mind—filled with colors, scents and sounds. That was all it took to send his body into withdrawal, craving her like a drug, needing to be inside of her, to feel her surrounding him. But he also craved her intellect, her honesty, the way his heart danced when he made her laugh. The way it melted at the sight of her. Each day he was sliding further into an abyss he’d never escape. One he didn’t want to.
Miles returned with the trays and a bottle of wine. They settled into bed to eat dinner and watch Castle. He smiled, thinking of his first lame attempt to lure her back to his room. He’d gone down in flames, but maybe it’d endeared him to her the tiniest little bit.
When the show ended Miles practically held his breath as he contemplated whether he should say something. He caught a glimpse of the deep sadness beneath her eyes that he’d seen earlier and couldn’t help himself. He had to know.
“Is everything okay?”
She paused a moment before responding, biting her lip and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Of course. Why?”
“You just seem...I don’t know...sad, I guess.”
“I’m fine.” Her words were clipped, an edge of aggravation in her voice. She forced a smile, her eyes not leaving the television. “Really.”