Jillian's Promise

by Kristin Noel Fischer

  “I don’t know. It was a sweet gesture, but I’m probably going to return it and buy a less expensive one from the discount store.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t like the idea of Bryan spending so much money on me. It just feels wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Bianca rinsed out Mrs. Villega’s hair, taking care not to splash water on the older woman’s face. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So everything is okay with you and Bryan? You’re still madly in love with him?”

  “Of course.” I kept my voice light. I’d never claimed to be madly in love with Bryan. I cared for him and respected him, but madly in love was a sentiment reserved for the young. “Bryan and I argued last night, so things are a little tense between us. It will be fine in a few days.”

  “What’d you argue about?”

  I hesitated, afraid my sister would turn this into a big deal. “He was just jealous, but it’s fine.”

  “Why was he jealous?”

  I groaned, knowing I would regret telling Bianca but needing to confide in someone. “Well, I told you about taking Keith to the ER.”

  “Yes.”

  “Afterward, we went to see his boat. He hadn’t been there since the shooting, and I thought it might help his memory. I didn’t know Bryan had cancelled his appointment and was waiting at the house with the boys. Anyway, when we finally got home, Bryan accused me of going on a date with my ex-husband.”

  “Well, weren’t you?”

  “No! We went to the hospital and down to the harbor to see his boat.”

  “Hmmm.” Bianca wrapped a towel around Mrs. Villega’s head and helped her walk back to the salon chair.

  “Hmmm what?” I pressed.

  “Honestly? Both Vicki and I have had dates that would make the hospital and Rose Harbor look like luxury cruises, so Bryan’s suspicions are probably justified.”

  Irritation snaked up my spine. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” She removed the towel and gently brushed out Mrs. Villega’s hair. Although I had plenty of work to do, something kept me in place, giving Bianca the opportunity to ask about Keith.

  “What about him?” I snapped.

  “Was Keith romantic?”

  Her question caught me off guard, forcing me to remember the sweet letters Keith had written when we were first married and he’d been away at Officer Basic Course. His spelling and grammar had been atrocious, but his words were heartfelt and honest. Despite my best efforts to run his letters through the shredder, they remained boxed up in the attic next to the baby clothes I’d bought for our daughter.

  “Jillian?”

  I shook my head, clearing the memory. “No, Keith was never romantic.”

  “He never wrote you letters, planted a tree for you, or cooked you a special meal?”

  “Bianca, I don’t want to get into this again.”

  “Fine.”

  Shaking my head, I turned and left. Bianca had never supported my decision to divorce Keith. She’d always taken his side, insisting most of the blame for our separation fell on me. Why was she so quick to judge? Didn’t she understand how much Keith had broken my heart?

  I spent the rest of the morning focusing on my residents and trying to put Bianca’s accusations out of my mind. She’d never been married and had only experienced one serious relationship in her life, so she had no room to talk.

  Later, she found me in the dining room where I was mashing up a banana for one of the new residents who’d been refusing to eat since her arrival last week.

  “Look.” Bianca sank into the chair beside me. “You’re my sister and I love you. I love Keith, too, but I remember when you broke up. I remember how much he hurt you. I remember how stressed you were when he showed up drunk, and you had to tell him he couldn’t take the kids.”

  “That only happened one time,” I said, not sure why I was defending him.

  “Okay, but I know he used to call you after he’d been drinking. I know he refused to seek help, and I know your divorce devastated you.”

  She paused, allowing her words to sink into the hollow of my bones. My divorce had been beyond devastating. It had hardened my heart and rattled my self-confidence.

  Reaching out, she squeezed my hand. “I want what’s best for you. You light up when you talk about Keith, and I can’t help but hope there’s still a chance for the two of you.”

  “Well, stop hoping. I’ve already told you it’s too late. And for the record, I don’t light up over Keith.”

  “No?”

  “No,” I replied, but the fight had left me because I knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. In fact, she might even be right.

  *

  On Friday, my boss granted me leave so I could spend the day at the governor’s villa, setting up for Saturday night’s event. With my crew of seven women and two men, we decorated the tables, met with the band, and attended to a myriad of other details.

  Keith ordered Korean takeout that night, but I was too tired to eat. I awoke early Saturday morning and returned to the villa for more decorating. By three o’clock that afternoon, I was exhausted. I collapsed in a chair next to Vicki whose bakery was donating a huge dessert table. “I think we’re ready.”

  “Everything looks beautiful, but you need a nap,” Vicki said.

  “No time. I’m going to run home and grab a quick shower before heading to the salon where Bianca has promised to transform me into a movie star.”

  Vicki smiled. “Okay, I’ll see you tonight.”

  “See you tonight.”

  *

  At the salon, Bianca worked her magic, then I drove home and retrieved the mail, not surprised to see that most of it was advertisements. Ever since I started dating Bryan, my junk mail had doubled, thanks to my mother, who’d put me on every bridal list possible.

  I pulled into the driveway and sorted through the mail. A few minutes later, Keith yanked open my car door and I screamed.

  “Sorry,” he said, laughing.

  Closing my eyes, I placed a hand over my racing heart. “You scared me.”

  “So I noticed.” He grinned down at me. “Again, I’m sorry, but I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I can show you something.” He took me by the hand and helped me out of the car. His touch sent little tingles of excitement dancing up my arm, and for the hundredth time, I chastised myself for being so easily affected by his touch.

  “We thought you’d never get home,” he said, oblivious to the crazy hormones coursing through me. His hair was wet, and he smelled of sunscreen and chlorine, something that always reminded me of lovely summer days spent lounging around the pool.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “You didn’t build another tree house, did you?”

  He met my gaze and chuckled. “That’s funny, Jills. Really funny. No, we didn’t build another tree house. We did something even more amazing.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “What could possibly be more amazing than a tree house?”

  He shook his head. “A tree house is hard to beat, but I think you’ll like this surprise.”

  “What is it?”

  “Questions, questions. You’re just going to have to wait.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Come on.” Still holding my hand, he led me through the gate to the backyard. I was greeted by sounds of the kids laughing, but I couldn’t see them because Keith and I were on the side of the house by the peach tree.

  “Now, close your eyes.” He placed one arm around my waist and covered my eyes with his free hand.

  His closeness rattled me, blurring my vow to keep my distance.

  “Are your eyes closed?” he whispered, his voice warm against my ear.

  I shuddered and nodded.

  “Okay, let’s go.” He stepped forward, but I found myself unable to move.

  “Jills? What’s wrong?”

  Everything. Starting with your body pressed against mine. “Noth
ing. I’m fine.”

  He uncovered my eyes and turned my shoulders toward him. “You’re not fine. Your whole body is shaking. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  I looked up and met his gaze. Being around him wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wasn’t supposed to feel so much longing and desire every time we were together. I was divorced and dating Bryan. I wasn’t allowed to be in love with my ex-husband.

  I bit my bottom lip. “When you touch me like that . . .”

  He looked down and gently took my hand. “So, you feel it, too? This energy, this attraction between us? It’s still there for you as well?”

  Yes. I kept my hand in his. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that easy.”

  “It is that easy.” He stepped toward me. “It’s the easiest thing in the world.”

  Before I could protest, he lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me. I gasped as his arms encircled my waist, pulling me against him.

  “Keith.”

  He said nothing but continued pressing his lips to mine with a passion I’d long since forgotten. On instinct, I reached for him, clinging to his T-shirt and returning his kiss. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might explode.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe it was that easy. Maybe it was time to stop fighting my feelings and admit I still loved him. Still wanted him.

  “Wow,” I said when our kiss ended.

  He looked down at me so intensely, I couldn’t breathe. “Does Bryan ever kiss you like that?”

  “Bryan?”

  Fire burned in Keith’s eyes. “Does he make you feel out of control and so desperate you’d give your life to hold onto him?”

  “That’s not the point,” I stammered, flustered he was asking me about Bryan.

  Keith shook his head. “That’s exactly the point. Do you still want him, Jills? After kissing me like that, can you really tell me you feel nothing for me?”

  Everything inside me froze, afraid to respond.

  “Well?” he demanded, his resentment rising.

  “Keith . . . I . . . it’s . . .” I took several ragged breaths and tried to recover. Tried to think. Tried to be rational, but my mind reeled, unable to answer.

  And in that moment, all the wrong things tumbled out of my mouth. “You and I are more complicated than a feeling. When your memory returns, you’ll understand.”

  His jaw tensed, but his eyes remained locked on mine. “Everything in my gut tells me we’re not complicated. That kiss tells me we’re not complicated.”

  I shook my head in protest and closed my eyes, desperate to resist the power he had over me.

  “Look at me, Jills.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at the man I’d loved for most of my adult life. The man who’d given me children, gone off to war, and returned home a different person.

  “I’m your husband, Jills. I love you, and you love me. Whatever happened between us can be fixed. I’m not going to live without you. I refuse to live without you.”

  I was terrified, and I wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Keith leaned closer, letting his gaze drop to my lips before returning to my eyes. “I’m the man who loves you, Jills. I’m your husband.”

  “Not anymore,” I said without conviction. A knot formed in my throat and I shook my head, afraid admitting the truth would only lead to pain. “I don’t love you anymore. I once did. I once loved you with my whole heart, but I can’t . . . I don’t love you like that anymore.”

  My words sounded false even to me, but Keith flinched as if believing they were true. “So you’ll never forgive me?”

  “It isn’t about forgiveness. I forgive you, but it’s too late for us. We were in love once, but things have changed, and we’re not together anymore.”

  He stepped back and I continued my rant, fueled by years of frustration and anger. “We’re not good for each other. You don’t remember how horrible it was, but you stopped talking to me. I begged you to tell me what was wrong, but you wouldn’t. When we did talk, we just fought. You—”

  “Okay!” He held up a hand to stop me. “I get it. It’s over.”

  His announcement was so abrupt I almost didn’t take him seriously. But his shoulders tensed, and he spoke with such conviction, I knew I’d pushed him too far. “I’m done listening to you tell me how wrong we are together. I’ll stop chasing you. Stop trying to convince you we’re meant to be together. If you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me. But I’m not going to stand here and listen to you lecture me about how wrong we are for each other.”

  Without another word, he spun around and strode away from me. Guilt consumed me. Guilt that I’d hurt him, guilt that I’d kissed him, and guilt that I’d just told the biggest lie of my life.

  Chapter 22

  Keith

  I strode away from Jillian, unable to listen to anymore of her lies. Maybe they weren’t lies. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe I had been such a horrible person that I was unforgiveable.

  Marching past the kids who were soaking in the newly fixed hot tub, I thundered into the kitchen, flung open the freezer, and searched for the bottle of vodka I used to keep hidden behind the frozen vegetables.

  Vodka! What was I doing?

  The bottle wasn’t there of course. No, it’d been years since I kept a bottle in this freezer. I slammed the door hard and squeezed my eyes tight, feeling like I was about to explode. I’d forgotten that overwhelming, carnal need for alcohol. Forgotten about that quick fury that could set me into an unexpected, uncontainable rage.

  With all my strength, I drew on what Dr. Jacobs taught me in therapy—breathing in deeply, holding it for five seconds, and pushing it back out. I wouldn’t start drinking again. I wouldn’t! No matter how much I wanted to numb the pain, I wouldn’t drink.

  When Jillian had taken me to my boat the other night, I’d found a bottle in the cupboard and had dumped it down the drain without a second thought. Now, I was consumed with getting a drink.

  Dr. Jacobs had warned me this might happen, but I hadn’t believed him. How wrong I’d been.

  Hoping it would help, I opened the refrigerator, grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper, and pressed it to my sweaty face. Why did Jillian drive me so crazy? I loved her more than anything. Did she feel nothing for me?

  I popped open the can of soda and looked out the kitchen window. She stood by the hot tub, talking to the kids. It’d been another day of highs and lows with my sons. Drew was amazing. So full of life and enthusiasm. He’d hardly changed from that six-year-old little boy I remembered.

  Matt, on the other hand, vacillated between being the greatest kid on earth and the biggest pain. Sometimes, when it was just the two of us, I could see the child he’d once been and the man he was trying to become. Those moments gave me hope that my accident hadn’t been in vain. I wanted to believe my amnesia was part of God’s greater plan for my life, but sometimes believing that was impossible.

  Shaking my head, I watched Jillian glide her hand through the water in the hot tub and laugh with the kids. Even after all these years, she was the only woman I wanted. Had I really lost her? Was it too late for us?

  I chugged down the soda, crushed the can, and threw it in the recycling bin. Just as I thought things couldn’t get worse, the doorbell rang. Through the front door window, I saw Bryan standing on the porch, holding a bouquet of red roses and wearing a crisp tuxedo. I stepped back so he wouldn’t see me.

  My anger returned, and I balled my hand into a fist, desperate to punch something—the wall, the refrigerator, Bryan’s face.

  Breathe.

  I don’t want to breathe! I want to drink!

  The doorbell rang again, and from the couch where she’d been sleeping, Bella thumped her tail. “Hear that, girl? An intruder. Sick ’em, girl. Go on. Get him.”

  The old dog gave a pathetic smile before closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.
>
  Suddenly, I remembered the unopened bottle of liquor under the seat of my truck. Was it still there?

  Don’t do it, a voice inside me whispered. Call Dr. Jacobs, talk to Jillian, go for a run, clean out your sock drawer, just don’t drink.

  Ignoring the voice of reason, I stomped out of the kitchen, determined to find that bottle.

  Chapter 23

  Jillian

  Standing at the hot tub, I pretended not to be shaken by what just happened between Keith and me. He’d kissed me! Just like that, he’d taken me in his arms and kissed me. Kissed me like I hadn’t been kissed in years . . . like I hadn’t been kissed since the last time he’d kissed me.

  Then, he’d asked about Bryan.

  My stomach twisted with guilt. Bryan didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He would be crushed when I told him what happened. And I had to tell him. A relationship couldn’t survive without honesty, and I fully intended to be honest with Bryan, unless . . . unless I broke up with him.

  The thought stopped my heart. Was it time to do what I knew was right and end things with Bryan?

  Then what?

  Could I honestly throw away caution and welcome Keith back into my life?

  Keith’s amnesia had turned him back into the man I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. Yet, the way his anger had flared so quickly reminded me of those bad days when he first returned from Iraq and symptoms of PTSD took over his personality.

  Drew interrupted my thoughts. “Hey, Mom, can you believe Dad hooked up the hot tub? Isn’t he amazing?”

  I placed my hand in front of one of the jets, allowing the warm water to massage my palm. Drew was right. Since moving in with us, Keith had been so amazing—homeschooling Matt, building the tree house, doing the laundry, painting the fence, and now installing the hot tub.

  “I agree,” I told Drew. “Your father is pretty amazing.”

  Hannah climbed out of the water and sat on the edge of the tub. I was shocked to see she wore a conservative one-piece bathing suit with large tropical flowers. Usually, she pranced around the beach in skimpy attire that left little to the imagination.