by McNear, Mary
“A third of July party?”
“Uh-huh. To celebrate the day Jeremy and I met. Well, not met for the first time, because we lived in the same town all our lives. But the day we met again, after Jeremy came home from college.” She added, “And making things more complicated is that we can’t actually celebrate on that day, which was the Fourth of July, because nobody would come. Everyone in Butternut goes to the fairgrounds for the fireworks. So instead, we have it the day before. We buy the burgers and beer, and we hire a band, and everyone else brings a side dish or a salad or a dessert. And it’s fun.” She concluded, “Or at least, that’s the plan,” seeing the same apprehensive expression on Allie’s face.
“Jax, I’m sure it is fun,” Allie said, with a determined smile. “And Wyatt and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Really?” Jax asked, hopefully.
“Really,” Allie said. “Now, what can I bring?”
“Can you can bring your chocolate chip cookies?” Jax asked.
“Of course. How many?”
“Well, let’s see, They’ll be about two hundred people there—”
“Two hundred?” Allie said, in astonishment. “Jax, how do you even know two hundred people?”
“Easy. In a town the size of Butternut, you know everyone,” Jax explained. “Whether you want to or not. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll settle for a couple dozen cookies. We can just let our guests fight it out for them.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a car horn honking in front of the house.
“Jeremy’s here to drive the girls to camp,” Jax explained to Allie, and she went to the bottom of the stairs to call up to them.
Jade and Wyatt were the first ones down, Jade still clutching Wyatt by the hand. They were followed by Josie, Jax’s nine-year-old, who came dragging down the stairs with a scowl on her face that told Jax she’d been fighting with her older sister, Joy. As Josie reached her, Jax gave her a gentle push in the direction of the kitchen.
“Josie, please get the bag lunches out of the fridge,” she told her.
“Why do I have to get them for everyone?” Josie objected.
But Jax ignored her. Instead, she looked up at Joy, her twelve-year-old, coming down the stairs. Unlike her sister, she didn’t look angry. Her fight with Josie was already forgotten, and she had a soft, dreamy expression on her face that told Jax she was thinking about Andy Montgomery, the thirteen-year-old boy who lived across the street. Jax groaned inwardly. She’d hoped the whole boy thing might still be a few years away. She should have known better.
When Joy reached the bottom of the stairs, Jax took her by the shoulders and, looking into her pretty, freckled face, said sternly, “And you, you stop fighting with your sister. Is that understood?”
“Uh-huh,” Joy said, in a way that let Jax know she hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
Jax sighed, but there was a flurry of activity now as she got the girls out the door.
“Are you sure you can’t stay a little longer,” Jax asked Allie then, not wanting to be alone. Because as hard as it had been to be with people since she’d gotten Bobby’s letter, it was harder to be alone. Alone with her fear.
But Allie shook her head. “We’d better be going, too,” she said, giving Jax a hug. “We have groceries in the trunk.”
And then they were gone, and Jax walked, mechanically, to the kitchen. The morning’s breakfast dishes were still stacked in the sink. She put the stopper in the drain, turned on the hot water, and added a squirt of dishwashing liquid. Then she waited for the sink to fill up, staring absently into the cloud of steam that rose from the faucet. This was one time, she thought, as she picked up a sponge and a dish, that her dishwashing ritual wouldn’t give her any pleasure.
Then the telephone rang, too loudly in the quiet kitchen, and Jax dropped the dish she was holding. Luckily, it clattered to the bottom of the sink without breaking. She walked over to the cordless phone on the counter and picked it up. It felt strangely heavy as she lifted it to her ear and spoke into it.
“Hello,” she croaked, her mouth as dry as sandpaper.
“Jax?” Bobby drawled from the other end. Strange, she thought. It had been so many years since she’d heard Bobby’s voice, but it sounded utterly familiar. Familiar in an awful kind of way.
She almost hung up, but she restrained herself. Because if she did hang up, he might get angry. And, insofar as she had a strategy, it involved not making Bobby angry. Or at least not any more angry than was absolutely necessary.
“Bobby?” she croaked in answer, her tongue clumsy and uncooperative in her mouth.
“That’s right, baby,” he said. And then he added, a little peevishly, “You don’t sound very happy to hear from me.”
“I’m just surprised,” she said, looking up at the kitchen clock. “You weren’t supposed to call for another hour.”
“Change of plans,” he said, carelessly. “Besides, I thought if I called you earlier, she might answer the phone. And I’ve never heard her voice before. I’d like to know what Joy’s voice sounds like, Jax. She is my daughter, after all.”
It was so quiet in the kitchen that the steady drip of water from the faucet sounded almost painfully loud. Jax groped for a chair at the kitchen table, then sank down on it just as her knees buckled uselessly beneath her.
“She’s not your daughter, Bobby,” she breathed. “I told you in my letter to you. She’s Jeremy’s daughter. I was pregnant with her when I married him.”
“Oh, you were pregnant all right,” Bobby said with a snort. “But it was with my baby, not his.”
“And you know this because . . .”
“I know this because a couple of weeks before you were hooking up with Jeremy, you were hooking up with me. You and I conceived that baby together, Jax. I know it. And you know it. And now you know that I know it.”
“But—”
“Jax, I don’t have time for this now,” Bobby snapped. “I’ve got five minutes on my calling card, and twelve guys standing in line behind me, waiting their turn. You think it’s easy to make a phone call in prison? Think again.”
Jax took a deep breath. She had to get a handle on herself. Now. But she also had to change her strategy. Because her denials weren’t going to work. And Bobby, for once, had the truth on his side.
“Look, Bobby. Let’s not argue about this, okay?” she said, trying a different tack. “I mean, what difference does it make, in the long run, whose daughter Joy is? Isn’t it enough to know that she has a good home here with me and Jeremy?”
“But what about me, baby? What have I got?” Bobby whined, and he sounded so exactly like one of her children that Jax almost laughed. Almost.
“What you’ve got, Bobby, if you really believe Joy is your daughter, is the satisfaction of knowing she’s well taken care of,” Jax said. She didn’t think for a minute this gambit would work. But she was hoping, somehow, to increase her negotiating power by appealing to his conscience. Assuming, of course, that he had a conscience. And she was not at all sure that he did.
“Look, now you’re just wasting my time again,” Bobby muttered. “My time and the minutes on my calling card. I told you all this in my letter, Jax. Joy’s my daughter. And when I get out this summer, I want to be part of her life. I’ve got rights. Don’t think I don’t know about them. The library here’s got a legal section in it, and I’ve done my homework. So you and I can either work something out now, or after I’m released, in another six weeks, I can swing by the hardware store and talk to Jeremy about it. Because I’m willing to bet, sweetheart, that the subject of who Joy’s real father is doesn’t come up very often at the dinner table. Am I right?”
Jax didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
“Okay, good. We understand each other,” Bobby said. “I’m glad. Because I’m not entirely unsympathetic to your little, um . . . predicament here. And, as much as I want to see our daughter, if you think it might be too much of a shock to her if
I did, well, then we might be able to work something out.”
“Keep talking,” Jax said, a tiny hope stirring inside her.
“Well, here’s the thing. When I leave here, it’s with nothing but a couple of homemade tattoos. And those aren’t going to pay the bills. I’ve got to start over now. From scratch. And that takes money.”
Jax’s head cleared instantly. Money. She’d hoped it would come to this. She could pay Bobby off, she knew, if the price wasn’t too high. “Fine,” she said. “How much are we talking about? I don’t have a lot, obviously, but I might be able to arrange a small loan to get you started somewhere.” Somewhere far away from here.
“Uh, I wasn’t thinking of a loan, baby. I was thinking more of a gift. And I was thinking, maybe, fifty thousand dollars of seed money ought to be enough to get me started in some business. Some legal business,” he added.
Fifty thousand dollars? Are you crazy? Jax almost blurted out. But then she reminded herself that this was a negotiation. And that fifty thousand dollars was only Bobby’s opening offer.
“Look,” she said, “there is no way I can get my hands on fifty thousand dollars. But I can offer you twenty-five hundred dollars.” She added, sternly, “And that’s a lot of money for me.”
“Sorry, baby, that’s not going to do it,” Bobby said flatly.
“Five thousand then,” Jax said. She knew she was giving in too quickly, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to get this over with.
“I’ll come down to twenty,” Bobby said, just as quickly.
“Ten is my final offer,” Jax said. “You can take it or leave it. But I’m not going any higher.”
Bobby was silent for a long time. “All right,” he said finally, in a sulky tone of voice.
“And in exchange, Bobby, you stay away from her. And the rest of my family. And another thing, Bobby. You stay away from Butternut, too. Is that clear?”
“You can’t tell me where to live,” he grumbled.
“I can if you want the money,” she shot back.
He was silent. “Yeah, okay,” he said, finally. “I don’t want to start over in your stupid little town, anyway. But I do need to come there, for a couple of days, after I get out. I’ve got some loose ends that need tying up. I can get the money from you then, Jax.”
“No, Bobby. I’ll mail you a check. Just give me a few days to get the money together.”
“Oh no, babe, you’re not getting off that easily. Besides, I prefer to conduct my business in person.”
“Bobby, no. I can’t see you in person. It’s too big a risk.”
“Yeah, well, life is full of risks,” he said, darkly. “I learned that the hard way. So I’ll see you in Butternut on, uh, August fifteenth. I should be there by then. Why don’t we say nine P.M. at the Mosquito Inn.”
The Mosquito Inn? Jax thought, appalled. The place was a dive bar on Highway 169 that catered mainly to motorcycle gang members and ex-cons. The thought of her going there, when she’d be nearly eight and a half months pregnant, was ludicrous, and she almost said so. But then something occurred to her. Her chances of seeing someone she actually knew there, someone other than Bobby, were almost nonexistent.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” Bobby growled, and he hung up the phone.
Jax put down the phone, too, and it was only then that she realized she was shaking all over. This can’t be good for the baby, she thought, putting her hands protectively over her belly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, in the quiet kitchen. And, as if in response, she felt the baby move. It was a gentle, fluttering movement, almost like a tiny pair of wings beating. And it comforted her somehow.
She crossed her arms on the table then and put her head down on them. And she remembered the afternoon, thirteen years ago, that Bobby Lewis had walked into the Butternut drugstore and changed her life forever.
Jax had just graduated from high school that June, and she was living at home, working part time at Butternut Drugs. She’d had no idea, at the time, what the future held for her. But she had a feeling that whatever it was, it probably wasn’t worth getting excited about.
She wasn’t going to college. That much was clear. Her math teacher, Mrs. Martin, had been impressed by her quickness with numbers and had encouraged her to apply to the state university. But she hadn’t done it. She didn’t believe in herself. And, with the exception of Mrs. Martin, no one else seemed to believe in her either. Besides, even if she could have gotten into the University of Minnesota, there was no money to pay for her to go there.
So instead, she stood behind the makeup counter at Butternut Drugs, rearranging lipsticks and waiting for something, anything, to happen. And then, one day, it did. Bobby Lewis came in to buy a bottle of aftershave. And he stayed to flirt with Jax.
“Is that all you do all day? Arrange those little tubes?” he asked, watching her.
“They’re called lipsticks,” Jax said, unnerved by his proximity to her. “And the middle-school girls who come in here to look at them get them all out of order,” she explained. In spite of the drugstore’s air-conditioning, her face felt suddenly warm.
“Do you ever get bored working here?” Bobby asked, leaning on the counter.
“All the time,” Jax murmured, glancing over to see if Mr. Coats, who owned the drugstore, was within earshot. He wasn’t.
“Then why don’t you put that little tube down, and you and I will walk out that door and get into my pickup,” Bobby said. “We’ll buy a six-pack of beer, go for a drive, and have some fun. What do you say?”
“I say no,” Jax practically whispered. Her face was burning now. She’d never even been kissed before. And the way Bobby was looking at her, and talking to her, made her think he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her.
“Oh, come on,” Bobby coaxed. “It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside.”
She shook her head. “I’d get fired,” she said, putting a coral-colored lipstick back in its proper slot.
“Then I’ll come back at closing,” Bobby said. “We can drive down to the lake and watch the sunset.”
“I don’t think so,” Jax said, pretending now to be absorbed in dusting the eye shadow display. There was no way she was going out with him. She didn’t know him personally, but she knew him by his reputation. And his reputation was bad.
He was a liar, she’d heard, and a cheat and a thief. At twenty, he already had a rap sheet as long as her arm. And he was supposed to be mean, too. Even Jax’s father, no saint himself, had once said that Bobby Lewis was the kind of guy who couldn’t walk by a dog without kicking it.
But unfortunately for Jax, Bobby did have a few things going for him. He was good-looking, for one thing. And he practically oozed sex appeal, for another. And, as Jax was about to discover, he could also be very persuasive when he made up his mind that he wanted something. And right then, what he wanted was Jax.
“I’m not leaving until you say yes,” he said. “And I’ve got all afternoon.”
Jax looked up. Mr. Coats was coming over. And he didn’t look happy.
“Fine, I’ll go out with you tonight. But you have to go now,” she pleaded.
“See you at six,” he said. Then he gave her a long, slow smile and left the store.
In later years, Jax often thought that getting fired that day would have been a small price to pay for not getting involved with Bobby Lewis. But the truth was, she wasn’t entirely blameless. Because if he had to twist her arm to go with him that time, she went out with him willingly enough the next time. And the time after that.
Why, she couldn’t really say. She knew he was trouble, knew it would end badly. But she was bored. And lonely. And flattered by his attention. And deep down, she didn’t really believe she deserved anyone or anything better than Bobby Lewis.
But whatever the reason, it ended exactly the way they’d both known it would end, with Bobby sweet-talking Jax out of her clothes, and her virginity, in th
e backseat of his pickup one night. After that, he dropped the pretense of being charming and alternated between being mean to Jax and just ignoring her.
But soon, he lost interest in her altogether. And one day, when she was at work, rearranging the lipsticks again, Jax realized she hadn’t seen him in over a week. Good riddance, she told herself. But at that moment, a tube of lipstick slipped through her fingers and rolled under the counter, and as she knelt to retrieve it, she realized, in a moment like a thunderclap, that she was pregnant. She didn’t know how she knew it. She hadn’t experienced any physical changes yet. It was too early for her to have even missed a period. But she knew, with absolute certainty, that she was going to have a baby.
Amazingly enough, she didn’t panic. She didn’t panic because in the same moment she knew she was pregnant, she knew something else, too. She knew that whatever happened, she was not going to let Bobby Lewis have anything to do with this child. And knowing that gave her a sense of purpose. She reached for the lipstick under the counter, stood up, and calmly put it back in its slot on the display shelf.
But one week, and one positive pregnancy test, later, Jax still had no idea how she would keep her promise to herself. She was at Butternut’s annual Fourth of July picnic, nibbling on a slice of watermelon and contemplating the enormity of her problem, when Jeremy Johnson bumped into her and spilled some punch on her sundress. He apologized profusely and went to get some napkins for her, but he stayed to talk. And her life changed again, for the second time in one month.
She could still remember every detail of that night.
“How is it that we’ve never even spoken to each other before tonight?” Jeremy asked her later, toward sunrise the next morning, as they lay on a blanket under an overturned rowboat at the town beach.
“You left for college the summer before my freshman year in high school,” Jax pointed out.
“I never should have left,” Jeremy said, kissing her. “I should have just stayed here and waited for you to grow up.”