Jillian's Promise

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  On the credenza behind Dr. Jacobs sat a framed picture of him with his arm around a beautiful woman, holding a little girl with pigtails.

  “Is that your family?” I asked.

  He peeked over his shoulder and nodded. “My wife and daughter, Kimberly.”

  “They’re beautiful.”

  The little girl, who was about five, wore a bright-colored summer dress, making me think about the daughter Keith and I had lost. What would our little girl have been like at five? I still had a small box of pink baby clothes I couldn’t bear to give away. Would I ever?

  Looking up, I noted sorrow in Dr. Jacobs’s eyes. He swallowed and gave a somber smile. “My wife died last year, so it’s just Kimberly and me now.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  I glanced at the picture again, feeling incredibly sad for him and his daughter. I saw my parents at least once a week for church and Sunday lunch. Despite the fact my mother often drove me batty, I couldn’t imagine life without her.

  “Is your daughter doing okay?” I asked.

  “Surprisingly, well. She’s taking everything so much better than I am. In fact, she’s on the quest for a new mom.”

  “Really?”

  His face reddened. “Yes, but I’m not ready to start dating. Not yet. My wife was amazing . . . and it’s been difficult.”

  “I understand.”

  “What about your boys?” he asked, changing the subject. “How have they adjusted to Keith’s amnesia?”

  “Drew’s okay, but Matt is struggling. I’ve had a lot of problems with him this year.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “Just general defiance and a determination to make me miserable.”

  Dr. Jacobs smiled sympathetically. “Do you think some of his behavior is normal teenage issues?”

  “Maybe, but when Matt was little, he adored Keith. The two of them did everything together. Now, Matt avoids his father as much as possible.”

  “That’s tough.”

  I nodded and brought the conversation back to Keith. “Isn’t it too soon for him to be released from the hospital?”

  “Not really. Studies show that patients recover faster at home. His shoulder is healing, and he’ll have to use a cane until his leg gets stronger, but as long as he returns for daily rehab, there’s no sense in keeping him hospitalized.”

  “What about his memory? Don’t you still need to work with him?”

  “Yes, but I can do that as an outpatient.” Dr. Jacobs’s face grew serious. Leaning forward, he pressed his forearms into the desk. “Keith’s amnesia is psychological. Because his memories stop before reaching Iraq, I believe the trauma he experienced during the deployment led to his drinking. If we can keep him on the island, it’s my hope strong family ties and therapy will prevent the destructive behavior as his memories return.”

  A wave of frustration swept over me. “Believe me. Both his mother and I tried to stop his downward spiral, but he didn’t want to be helped. We were there for him, and I tried to get him into counseling, but the more I tried to help, the angrier he became. All he wanted was to be left alone.”

  Dr. Jacobs adjusted his glasses. “I understand. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just an idea, but I’ll see what other arrangements can be made.”

  “Thank you.”

  I knew Dr. Jacobs was right about Keith needing the boys to help him recover, but allowing him to live in my house? No, even if Keith stayed in the garage apartment, that was without a doubt, the worst idea in the world.

  *

  On Friday, the boys and I met in Dr. Jacobs’s office to discuss Keith’s release from the hospital. While Matt and Drew sat on the couch, Dr. Jacobs took his usual spot in the chair behind his desk. I stood near the door, staring down at the Oriental area rug. Had the doctor’s wife picked it out before she died? Had they argued over the color or how to position it in the room, not realizing their time together was limited?

  “I want to talk to you about your father’s release from the hospital tomorrow,” Dr. Jacobs began.

  “He’s coming home?” Drew scooted to the edge of the couch.

  “Sort of.” I glanced at Dr. Jacobs for support. “He’s being discharged from the hospital, but he won’t be able to stay on his boat until he gets better.”

  “Where will he stay?” Drew asked.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “I was able to admit him to a state-of-the-art residential rehab facility just north of Houston.”

  “North of Houston?” Drew scrunched up his face. “Isn’t that like two hours away?”

  “It is,” I answered, cheerfully. “It has everything your father needs to heal, and I’ll drive you up to visit every weekend.”

  “Only on the weekends?” Drew looked skeptical.

  I started to speak, but Matt interrupted me with a strong and unwavering, “No.”

  “Okay,” I conceded, “maybe we can make a few extra trips during the week depending on our schedule.”

  “No, I mean we aren’t sending Dad away,” Matt said.

  I looked into his eyes and saw a determination that was usually absent. “Matt.”

  “He’s messed up, Mom.”

  “Yeah,” Drew agreed. “Strangers can’t take care of Dad like me and Matt can.”

  Matt gave a curt nod and placed a hand on my arm. “Dad can stay out in the garage like he used to, and it will be fine.”

  I sighed. If Drew had been the one to tell me this, I could’ve dismissed him. But how could I stand in the way of Matt wanting to help his father? Still, was I really going to let my ex-husband move back into my house?

  Chapter 9

  Keith

  I didn’t enjoy discussing my personal life with Dr. Let’s-talk-about-our-feelings Jacobs. The geeky doc was just trying to help me, but his questions were like pulling off a scab, then pouring acid over the wound and stabbing it with a needle.

  How did I feel about being called the Hero of Rose Island? What was it like to see my children as teenagers? What were my thoughts on Jillian dating another man? It seemed as if the doctor derived some warped sense of pleasure from asking such gut-wrenching questions.

  Today, however, I didn’t mind his questions because today Jillian and the boys were taking me home! Home! The word evoked all sorts of incredible memories—Jillian singing to the radio while she worked in the kitchen, playing catch with Matt in the backyard, building forts with Drew in the family room, and training our yellow Lab, Bella.

  Doc told me I wouldn’t be staying in the actual house but rather the garage apartment in the backyard. That wasn’t my first choice, obviously, but at least it was a start.

  Just before Jillian and the boys arrived, Doc issued one last pep talk. “When the memories return and you experience the feelings that caused you to start abusing alcohol, ask for help. You don’t have to do this alone, Keith. We’ll continue our regular sessions, but you have my personal cell phone and you can call me anytime. Day or night.”

  “Thanks, but it’s not going to be a problem.”

  “Oh?”

  “Nope. Maybe I used to struggle with drinking, but that’s behind me. I have absolutely no desire for alcohol. All I care about is spending time with my boys and winning back my wife.”

  Jacobs looked at me like I was insane. “Spending time with Matt and Drew is a worthy goal, but Jillian . . . perhaps, we should discuss a different focus regarding your relationship with her.”

  I shook my head, refusing to be influenced by his negativity. Last night, I’d had a heart-to-heart with the Almighty. I’d asked for God’s forgiveness and thanked Him for this second chance with my family. Don’t let me mess it up, Lord. Show me how to act and what to do in order to win them back.

  Despite being a Christian all my life, I often suffered from doubt. My belief in the power of prayer, however, had never wavered. I believed God would answer my prayer, and in time, Jillian and I would overcome our problems.


  When my family finally arrived to take me home, I was a nervous wreck. Sitting in the passenger seat, I made small talk and tried not to stare at Jillian who looked so pretty in a yellow sundress and a sparkly silver bracelet. Had she dressed up for my benefit?

  In the back seat, Drew talked incessantly about everything from his baseball team to the neighbor’s cat that loved walking all over Bryan’s car. Next time I visited a pet store, I’d have to buy that cat a special treat.

  “Hey, Dad,” Drew called. “Now that you’re going to be living with us, maybe we can finally build that tree house you promised.”

  I turned around and studied my youngest son. His braces sparkled in the sunlight and his eyes shone with so much hope I feared I might not be able to meet his expectations. “I’d like that, Son.”

  Matt, who’d barely spoken to me this afternoon, glared. His attitude bordered on disrespectful, and it was difficult for me to be patient with him. “Did you want to say something, Matt?”

  He hesitated. “A man shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep.”

  I locked eyes with him. “You’re right. A man shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep. If I did that in the past, I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  Jillian sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked at her, wondering why she’d reacted like that. Was I a man who didn’t kept his promises?

  I turned my attention back to Matt. In response for my request of forgiveness, he said nothing and just continued staring out the window. It was going to take a while to get used to my sons as teenagers. I desperately missed those little boys who believed I could do no wrong.

  Jillian turned onto Blackberry Lane, and I was shocked by how much the neighborhood had changed. The landscaping had matured, and several of the older houses had been renovated. I pointed at the big tree on the corner where Matt had broken his arm one Sunday morning before church.

  “Do you remember, Jills? How the bravest kid in the world didn’t cry even though his bone was sticking out of his arm?”

  She shuddered, and when I turned around to glance in the back seat, I saw a slight smile on Matt’s lips. “It actually hurt really bad.”

  “I bet,” I said. “We were worried you might have permanent damage and wouldn’t be able to play baseball anymore.”

  Matt looked down at his phone as if I’d said something wrong.

  “He’s not playing anymore,” Drew explained. “Not because of his arm, but—”

  “Stay out of it,” Matt said.

  “Why aren’t you playing?” I asked. “Drew told me the team went to State last year.”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Jillian said.

  I heard the stern warning in her voice, so I dropped the subject. Looking out the window, I remembered how much Jillian loved this area of the island. I wasn’t surprised to learn she’d bought the rental house a few years ago. Although an older home, it had the perfect location and floor plan.

  When the house came into view, I spotted a brand new black truck parked in the driveway. My gut wrenched. “Does that belong to him? To Bryan?”

  “Bryan?” Drew laughed. “No, that’s your truck, Dad.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yeah, you bought it last year. Don’t you remember?”

  “No.”

  Drew laughed. “It’s kind of like Christmas for you, isn’t it? You get to experience your boat, your laptop, and your new truck all over again.”

  I grinned. Leave it to Drew to see the bright side of my amnesia. “Good point.”

  Jillian pulled into the driveway, and as soon as she parked, Drew threw open the door and raced to the front porch. “Come on, Dad!”

  “On my way.” Slowly, I pulled myself out of the car, despising having to rely on a cane. Straightening as much as I could, I surveyed the house. The little oak tree we’d planted before I’d deployed was enormous. In fact, all the trees had matured, and the flowering shrubs had grown too big for the area. The exterior trim needed a new coat of paint as did the fence, but everything about 291 Blackberry Lane felt like home.

  “Hey, Dad,” Drew said from the porch, “come say hi to Bella.”

  An old yellow Lab hobbled outside, her body shaking with age. When she wagged her tail, a sharp pain shot through me.

  Bella. How old was she now? Thirteen? Man, even the family dog had moved on without me. Blinking, I walked up the path to greet my old friend. “Hey there, girl. How’ve you been?”

  As if understanding my pain, she pressed into me and emitted a haunting sound of pure emotion that sent chills up my arm.

  “She remembers you,” Drew said.

  “Of course she does.” I rubbed both hands through the dog’s fur as she groaned with pleasure. Although older, she was my same sweet Bella. “She could never forget me. I’m the man who always gives her a little sampling from the barbecue.”

  We went into the house and Jillian headed straight for the kitchen while Drew announced he was going to give me the grand tour right after he went to the bathroom. Matt hung back, his fingers flying over the keys of his cell phone. “I’m going over to Hannah’s house.”

  Jillian frowned. “Your father’s home, don’t you think you should stay?”

  “I haven’t seen Hannah since last Friday because I’ve been grounded.”

  The surliness in Matt’s voice set something off inside of me. “Show your mother some respect, Son.”

  He rolled his eyes. “She told me I could go.”

  Gripping my cane, I strode across the room until I reached him. “First of all, don’t you ever roll your eyes at me again. And second, your mother may have granted you permission to go, but you need to adjust your tone. You need to give her the respect she deserves.”

  Matt started to speak but thought better of it and closed his mouth. Crossing his arms in front of him, he glared at the ground.

  “You want to pout like a little kid?” I asked. “That’s fine. Pout all you want, but you’re not leaving this house until you apologize to your mother.”

  His eyes flashed with defiance. Was I being too hard on him? Not hard enough? I didn’t know how to discipline a teenager. Puffing out my chest, I stood my ground, hoping to appear more confident than I felt.

  Finally, he backed down and turned to face Jillian. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’d really like to go to Hannah’s. Can I? Please?”

  “Be home for dinner,” she said. “Six o’clock on the dot.”

  He nodded and started to leave, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “That won’t happen again, right?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Your mother deserves to be treated with respect.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he nodded and left the house, taking the tension with him.

  I rocked back on my heels. Maybe I could ask the doc for some techniques on parenting Matt. The shrink loved those kinds of subjects, and it would give us something else to focus on besides my personal issues and feelings.

  “Thank you,” Jillian called from the kitchen.

  I must’ve stared at her with confusion because she smiled and said, “Thank you for backing me up like that. It’s nice to be on the same page.”

  She didn’t add for once, but it was implied. I glanced behind me to confirm that Drew was still in the bathroom, out of earshot. “We weren’t on the same page in the past?”

  The expression on her face gave me my answer. Great, another thing to add to the long list of my past transgressions. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  She looked through the window at the backyard. I followed her gaze, bothered by the overgrown grass and all the weeds. Some of the slats on the fence needed replacing, and it was past time to restain the deck. We’d always taken pride in caring for the yard, but I imagined it was difficult for a single working mom like Jillian to keep up with everything.

  The doorbell rang, and Drew shot out of the bathroom to answer it. One of the neighborhood boys, Cooper Morales, stoo
d on the front porch asking if Drew could come out to play.

  Drew opened the door wider and glanced at me. “Well, my dad’s here. The Hero of Rose Island. He’s living with us now.”

  “Hey, Major Foster.” The boy waved enthusiastically. “Great job on the rescue. My mom’s baking you a raspberry cake. She’ll probably bring it over this afternoon.”

  “Thank you.” I stifled a yawn.

  “Are you tired, Dad?”

  I nodded. “Why don’t you go out and play while I take a nap before dinner? We’ll have time together later tonight. Maybe we can play a game of chess or make plans for that tree house.”

  Drew looked back and forth between his friend and me, torn over what he should do. “Are you sure you don’t mind me leaving?”

  I leaned on my cane, my leg achy and my body exhausted. “Yeah, I’m sure. Go on.”

  He hesitated another moment before running into my arms for a hug. “I love you, Dad.”

  I folded my arms around him, thinking this kid was one of a kind. “I love you, too, Son.”

  He flew out the door, leaving me standing alone in the family room. Feeling lost and uncertain, I turned to Jillian, who gave me an encouraging smile.

  When Matt and Drew were little, Jillian’s sisters or parents frequently took the boys for the afternoon. During those precious moments of freedom, I wasted no time swooping up my wife and carrying her to our bedroom.

  I shook my head to clear the vivid image. That wasn’t happening today. Life was different now.

  Relying heavily on my cane, I limped toward the kitchen where Jillian was chopping an onion to throw in the crock pot. She opened the refrigerator and removed a few potatoes. “Let me get dinner started, then I’ll take you out to the apartment.”

  I leaned against one of the barstools and watched her work. “Are you making pot roast? With carrots, onions, and potatoes?”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You remember my pot roast?”

  “I do.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t start making it until after you moved out. It was one of the first crockpot meals I made when I began working full-time.”