“Hey, I’m not one of your perps, you know.” I whine.
She drags me outside and to the backyard where she has plastic green lawn chairs and a clear glass patio table. She’s pale.
I brush back a stray hair from my eye. “Clearly we have a lot to talk about between what Will just said and what almost happened between me and Ben. Before we do, I have to give you some news.”
“Howard?”
I set my cup down and sit. “They’re waiting on a pathology report.” I take a deep breath. “He appears to have a tumor on the base—”
Carla takes the seat next to me and reaches for my hand.
“Of his skull.”
“I’m so sorry.” She squeezes my hand before releasing. “Despite his rough exterior, I know he’s one of your favorites. We all love him.”
I place my hands in my lap. “Absolutely. Susan will call when she knows more. It means a lot that I can share this with you.” I sigh. “I know tomorrow I need to go to the center and be strong.”
Carla taps the table glass for a few moments. “I appreciate that you trust me. It’s nice to have a friend. At work I’m a buddy to the guys. Once I’m home, it’s all about Noah.”
Not so much anymore.
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s not entirely true. Let’s move on to happier things. Like Will calling Noah ‘son.’” I wink.
She groans and pounds the table a few times. “I’m feeling a lot of things about that. Happy isn’t one of the emotions.”
I put my arms on the table and shuffle my chair closer. “What’s going on? Will adores you and is wonderful with Noah.”
She sighs. “He’s great. I enjoy spending time with him. But I’m not ready for anything serious. I vowed in high school I’d never need a man besides Noah again.” She winces. “That paramedic, Wayne?”
I recall the man who read the medical chart to me. “Yeah, what about him?”
“He’s Noah’s father.” Her hands start to shake. “He promised years ago he’d leave us alone, that he wanted no part in our lives. He was in Tupper Lake working. Now he works in Saratoga Springs but takes volunteer shifts in Lake Pleasant and Speculator Falls. I’m so confused, Jenna.” She lets out another breath. “I can hunt through the thick forest in search of meth labs. I have no problem dragging an alleged domestic violence suspect out of his house in cuffs. But, Jenna, between Wayne being back in town and what Will just said in there, I’m scared to death.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ladies, kick those legs higher. I’ve seen more energy when you won Bingo. Let’s move. The variety show will be here before you know it.” Roxy leads the pack, complete with a glittery top hat and jazz hands.
A varicose vein-filled kick line isn’t exactly a job perk.
Mabel Coffey stops her part in the routine and puts her hands on her hips. “It’s the first week of August. The show is in November. We have time, and we need grace. Not all of us were a—”
“Don’t say it, Mabel.” Dora stands, her index finger moves to her lips.
“Rockette.”
The ladies groan.
Roxy points her index finger toward the retired realtor. “That’s right, Mabel. I was a Rockette. You know what got me there? Hard work. So what if we’re senior citizens. We still have spunk. The community expects a quality show. We’re going to give them one.”
I slink past them, grateful for a private office. Their show might be a few months off, but Town Council resumes in September. Only a month to wow the council with the budget request and improvement proposal.
“Please, Lord, don’t let the council members look at me with the same blank stare the seniors are giving Roxy.” Most of all, Ben.
After thirty minutes, I discover great statistics from comparable senior centers to add to my report. I hit “save” on the file when the phone jingles, and I pick it up on the second ring.
“Jenna? It’s Susan.”
Please have good news about Howard.
“Hello. How is your dad?”
“The pathologist confirmed what we learned last week. It’s stage four.”
“What does that mean?” My voice quivers.
“It’s moving fast. My brother-in-law has amazing connections in New York City. He arranged for Dad to get into Sloan Kettering, but the appointment is this Wednesday. I’ve taken a leave of absence. My husband and I are going to drive him there.”
She sounds strong. Too much so.
“What does your dad think of all of this?”
“He isn’t saying much. He’s had a few seizures. I—just want the best for him.”
“Can I see him before you leave?”
“I’m sorry. There’s so much to do to get ready for the trip. We want to get into the city as soon as we can.” Her sobs bleed through the line. “Time isn’t on his side.”
Susan’s last sentence echoes through my mind all afternoon.
Bart and Dora pick up their chess pieces and walk out the door as the last participants of the day. I lock up and retreat to my office. With a shaking finger, I pick up the phone and dial the one person with grace, wisdom, and experience when it comes to losing a loved one.
“Hello, Sara? It’s Jenna. Did I catch you at a bad—time?” That last word reminds me that it’s something Howard doesn’t have.
“Actually, dear, I’m heading out in a few minutes. Early dinner with Fred and Janice. Do you need something?”
“I won’t keep you. I wondered if you knew the latest about Howard?” I pick up a pencil and tap the eraser on my desk a few times. “Susan called me earlier.”
“No, I haven’t heard. Do you need me to cancel dinner?”
I sigh. “It’s stage four brain cancer. Susan has connections to get him into Sloan-Kettering, but—they are leaving immediately.” I bite my lip. “Because they have to. She said the cancer is aggressive. You don’t have to cancel dinner. There isn’t anything I can do. I guess that’s what has me upset.”
“When you worked at the senior center in Ohio, were you as up close and personal to the members as you are here, honey?”
Just the sound of her voice comforts me. “No. It was a bigger place, and I floated between activities. The seniors here are like family. I want to do something, be a help. I feel useless.”
“Oh, Jenna. You aren’t the first to feel this way. I tell you what, use that extra key I gave you. Go to my hunting cabin. It was always such a place of peace for me when I was troubled. Just keep track of time. I don’t want you out there past dusk.”
The quaint shanty in the woods with the loft.
Perfect.
Even though it’s a sunny day with temperatures in the low eighties, I change to jeans and a cotton long-sleeved shirt to avoid bug bites and scratches.
I drive a quarter-mile past my own log cabin on Maple Lake Road and into the old paper company logging trails.
Finding the right trail takes steely concentration. Once I see the huge boulder Sara showed me during our trip together, I know I’m on the right course, and I allow my thoughts to drift. “Howard, I wish I could be a rock for you. For all my sassy comebacks to your gruff commentary, I feel like I have nothing for you when you need it the most.”
Twenty minutes and five miles deep into the woods later, I’m at the cabin. I fish for the key in the front seat and slide out the car door. A root catches my foot, and then I step up on the small, uneven porch.
I clasp the key to put it in the lock. To my right a wicker basket rests upside down, and paper plates strewn across the dirt. Fishing poles with tangled lines rest on the porch. A tackle box lays empty, fishing lures dot the porch.
What on Earth?
I shudder, taking tentative steps to the door. Is this a robbery? Will I have to defend myself?
“Lord, please protect me.” I jiggle the lock, free it from the door, and slowly push the heavy boards open.
I peer inside. Nothing seems out of place. The kerosene lamp stands on the table. Sara�
�s unusual window cleaner, the bottle of Jack Daniels, is on top of a closed cooler. Her precious journal remains on the table.
“Okay—this is a mystery. A mess outside but tidy inside.” Not even the dust bunnies move.
I creep past the porch and take slow steps inside. The loft remains intact with John Bivins homemade ladder standing against the upper room.
Oh, these squeaks are unnerving. Just need to climb a few steps for a peek. “Hmmm. Nothing up here out of place. I guess I’ll sign the journal, clean up, and head back.”
Holding the yellowed notebook feels like I have a treasure in my hands. A slight breeze skirts through the cabin, opening the diary to one of Sara’s older entries.
July 15, 1995
Well, I planned to cut some firewood on my day off but didn’t get far. Big storm hit, bet it was a microburst. Winds. Hail. The works. Cabin held up better than the trees. Can’t get my truck out. Going to have to hoof it out of here. Not even sure my chainsaw will help. Hope Sara’s okay. God, I love that woman.
I trail my finger along the white space at the end of the post and swallow. Sara’s distinctive handwriting begins after the white space.
So many trees down. I took the Suburban as far as I could to get to John. Worried for nothing. I find him cutting trees along the way so he can check on me. How I love John Bivins.
P.S. God, no microburst will keep me away from my husband.
I hold the journal to my chest. What a romance.
“Jenna Anderson, what are you doing?”
I drop the journal to the floor as soon as I hear the voice. I swing around. Ben’s arms are folded, and he isn’t smiling.
“Ben, you scared me. I was about to write in the—”
“Do you know how dangerous it is to be here alone?”
I bend over, grab the spiral pad, and stand. “Sara only told me not to be here after dusk.” I saunter toward him. “What’s going on?”
He uncrosses his arms and reaches for my free hand. “Come here.” He tugs me forward near his side and pivots toward the porch.
“Do you see the mess out there?” He releases my hand and points outside. He faces me, his finger two inches from my nose. The journal falls out of my hand and to the floor.
“Yes, I was going to pick it up. Strange thing that it’s only outside. Maybe the drunken hunters were too out of it to break the lock and get inside?” I try to bat his finger away, but he grabs both my hands.
“Jenna, that isn’t a hunting party’s work. That’s a hungry bear’s trail. Everything has to be locked down and out of sight. When Grandma said you were here, so many things went—” His voice cracks.
I look up. Those chocolate eyes are even dreamier close up. I swallow.
“To see the front door open—Jenna.” Ben’s voice downgrades to a whisper. He leans in and puts a protective but gentle hold around my waist. When his lips touch mine, it’s like water hitting a hot griddle. My hands wrap around his neck. For a man who has difficulty expressing himself, he writes a novel with one short, but amazing kiss.
I release my hands and pull back first. “Umm, wow.”
Ben takes a step back, but his gaze remains on me. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. Nothing like thinking you were eaten alive by a bear to give me the courage.”
“Oh.” I grin, my voice squeaking. “Well, I wish I’d scared you into thinking I was being eaten alive earlier.” I clear my throat. “Speaking of the bears, I suppose we should pick up their mess before they come calling again.”
He nods and walks over to the tackle box.
“Lord, what is that man thinking? Where do we go from here?” I whisper and look above.
I reach for Sara’s notebook and open it up to a blank page. I take the pencil out of the spiral portion and write.
This will be a day and a place I will never forget.
Ben glances over. “Ah, Grandma’s journal. Can I see it?”
My cheeks warm. “You aren’t going to edit me, are you?” I walk over and hand him the loose-leaf collection of memories.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He winks, taking the pencil, then the diary. He scribbles for a few seconds and hands it back.
“Am I allowed to read it?”
If I don’t perspire through the page and ruin it?
“Absolutely. I’m almost done with the tackle box. Then I’ll take a look at the cooler. Too bad we each drove our vehicles here. Maybe later we can go to Jack Frosty’s for dinner.”
I hear his offer, but my focus is on what he wrote.
I kissed Jenna Anderson for the first time here today. God willing, it won’t be my last.
I turn to face him, my hands shaking. I open my mouth but hear another vehicle.
Sara’s.
Ben and I walk toward the rut-filled path. She stops and cuts the engine, opens the door, and slides out. She crosses past the front of her Suburban, where I see the ashen look on her face.
“Grandma?”
My throat tightens.
Sara’s focus is on me. “Jenna. It’s Howard.”
“What? Did they start for New York City already?”
She shakes her head, stepping closer to me. “He’s gone, dear. Susan found him dead this afternoon when she went to wake him from a nap.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Grandma, Jenna isn’t in any condition to drive. Let’s leave the Bronco here, and I’ll take her back to town. Okay?” Ben speaks as if I’m not in the same room.
Sara nods. “Absolutely. I’ll call Shirley, and she can notify the rest of the seniors.”
“Jenna, I’m going to drive you home.” Ben’s hand encircles mine. “Come on. It’s okay. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
“But Howard’s supposed to go to the best hospital in—the world.” I struggle placing one foot in front of the other.
No college class came close to describing the shock I’m feeling at losing someone who was so much a part of Speculator Falls and the senior center.
Ben squeezes my hand. “I know, honey. It isn’t fair. Do you want me to call Susan? Pastor Craig?” He releases me to open the passenger side door.
I place my hand on his shoulder, ready to use him as leverage to climb into his truck. Tears fall down my face. I turn to him, and instead, collapse into his open arms. I grab his collar. “I can’t do this, Ben. I can’t.”
“It’s a blessing, really. God took him when he was sleeping. That ride would have been hard on him, the treatment even worse. I think he was in more pain than he wanted any of us to know.”
I shake my head. “No. You don’t understand.” I choke back fresh tears.
Ben takes my hands. “Okay. Tell me. Help me.” He kisses my knuckles.
“It’s more than Howard. I can’t do any of it.” I jerk my hands away, and they fall to my side. “I can’t do the funeral. I’m not up to returning to the center and pretending all is well, because it isn’t.”
“Everyone understands. The seniors are as grief stricken, I’m sure.”
“But they are stronger than I am, Ben. You were right.”
“About what?” His voice is a husky whisper.
“I don’t belong here. I’m a city girl who can’t handle this kind of life. I’ve never been this close to a group of people besides my family and my neighbor. This is too hard.” I spit the words out like gunfire.
“It will get easier. You’re in shock. I’ll get you home and call Brooke.” He smiles. “How about that?”
I pivot back to the passenger side and climb in with one jump. Without Ben’s help. “I want to go home.” I fold my arms and stare straight ahead.
It’s too much, Lord.
Ben walks over to his side of the truck and climbs in. He puts the keys in the ignition. “Right. That’s what I said. I’ll
take you home, and then I’ll call Brooke.”
“No. My home in Youngstown. I want to go home.”
Twenty minutes later we pull into my driveway.
/> “Okay, Jenna. Let me help you inside. I’m going to call Brooke and Carla.” Ben holds my shaking hands, and I slide out of the truck and into his arms.
“He was going to New York City. They were going to help him.” I swallow hard.
Ben walks ahead. He reaches the door and turns the knob. “Right. You always lock it.” He turns to me. “Are you able to get the key for me?”
I nod, reach back into the vehicle, retrieve my purse, and stumble back to him.
“Here. Just take the whole thing.” I drop my handbag to the ground. Contents spill out.
He picks up my bag and fishes for keys. “Lord, help me out here. I don’t know how to help Jenna.” He places the key in the lock.
Carla pulls in the driveway before Ben unlocks it. A car door closes, and footsteps follow.
“Ben, go on in. I’ll help Jenna.” Carla’s at my side, and Ben nods and walks forward.
My friend offers a hug. “I’m so sorry, Jenna. I know how close you and Howard were. This is for the best. We have to
focus on what he’d want. You know that, right?”
After pulling away, I sniffle. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Okay. Well, let’s talk about this. Come on. We’ll go inside, and Ben can make you a mocha.” She takes my elbow and guides me toward the house. “I called Susan. Her husband talked to me a bit about Howard.”
I stop. “What about him? How’s Susan?”
Carla nudges me ahead. “As shocked as you are. Let’s get settled, and we’ll talk.”
I slump onto the couch, and wrap my arms around the Adirondack chair design pillow. “I think a mocha would help. I have a headache.”
Carla turns to Ben. “Do you know how to use her machine?”
“No. But I can try.”
Our eyes connect. I don’t want to look away. Ben’s gaze makes me feel like I’m wrapped in the silkiest, best blanket on a winter’s day. When I finally break eye contact, I drop the pillow, stand, and walk over to him.
I reach for the coffee bag. “I can show you. I’m sorry I’m acting like a child. I’m stunned, I guess.” I pour water into the carafe. “Once we all have something to drink I’d love for Carla to tell us about her call with Susan’s husband.”
Entrusted (Adirondack Surrender Series Book 1) Page 14