Jack and Ginger (Sacred Heart Coven Book 3)

by Starr, Felicia

  She grabbed a box of tissues and dried her still damp face. Ginger's failed attempt at sleeping had her mind and feet wandering though the condo. Her heart yearned for her father so she decided that she would search out the next best thing to having him there with her.

  She walked down the hall to his room where she knew he had a box of pictures stored in back of the walk-in closet. She knew she would need to get rid of all of the clothes that she was stepping over, but hadn't had the heart to get rid of his things yet.

  She located his metal strongbox that contained all of his important documents. She squished her lips to the side making a face at the box before she used it as a step stool to reach the top shelf in the far corner of the closet.

  Ginger pulled down an old beat up cardboard box, it was a little bit heavier than she expected and almost dropped it on herself, but she managed to brace herself against the rack of clothes behind her. She took a deep breath, exited the small space and proceeded to sit on her father's bed. She sat there and stared at the box for a few minutes and wondered if it was the right decision to open it; she was already hopelessly sad and lonely.

  She touched the outside of the box; the box might've been as old as she was. It had little bits of water stains on the side, there were rough spots where the inside of the corrugated board shown through on one side of the box. There was even a crayon drawing of a small cat next to a house, a little girl and her father. Ginger really didn't remember drawing it, but she knew it had to have been hers.

  Times in Ginger's life may have been up and down; good and bad, but most of her memories of her father were happy ones. Even when she thought back on things that were not so great at the time seemed trivial now. There were countless times she and her father had not seen eye to eye on things; she knew now it was because he had her best interest at heart.

  Ginger knew her father didn't approve of her marrying Roger, but she thought she was in love and everything seemed so perfect at the time. Although there was a little part of her that always felt like she was disappointing her father. She had felt like he just didn't understand, perhaps he understood a lot more than she realized.

  Ginger took a deep breath and unfolded the flaps of the top of the box. It was filled with an assortment of pictures, most stored in zipped sandwich bags. Some were in the old paper envelopes with the tiny strips of developed film. Packages of school pictures from when Ginger was a little girl were stacked up along the inner wall.

  Ginger hadn't been in that box in a really long time. It amazed her how many pictures her father had actually collected over the years. There was a part of Ginger that wanted to go through every single picture, but it was creeping up on two o'clock in the morning and she was getting tired, but she couldn't help herself from at least sorting through a few.

  Ginger reached down inside and shuffled around some of the envelopes until she picked one at random. She decided to choose one picture and keep it with her, but the rest would have to get put away to look at another day. She felt like the one she chose would be like a small little present from heaven to help her feel closer to her father. She opened the envelope and the first picture was one of her and her father by the lake fishing. Ginger wondered who had taken the picture. It was almost always just Ginger and her father, perhaps maybe he had asked a stranger that day to take their picture or maybe he had a friend with him that Ginger just didn't remember.

  Ginger estimated that she must've been roughly nine years old in the picture. Her hair was blowing in the wind looking half curled, half straight, and very disheveled. Ginger envied the other girls at school when she was young because their hair was always long and often tied back into braids.

  When Ginger got older one of her friends taught her how to French braid her hair. She never forgot the time she spent with that girl, she had just transferred in from Brooklyn. Ginger didn't have a mother growing up to take care of little things like that. Her dad tried to put her hair in pigtails sometimes, but to Ginger, there was something magical about having your hair braided, something that she just didn't have as a little girl.

  Braids or no braids she could see the happiness in her eyes and the love on her father's face. There was something timeless about the way he looked down on her while she held the fishing pole in her hand. It looked like he must have sorted through the pictures; there were pictures of worms and pictures of her casting off, pictures of him casting off, there were even a few pictures of the dock they stood on and a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. Ginger giggled to herself; her dad must have let her use the camera.

  She shuffled through the images until she found her favorite, she pressed it against her chest and closed her eyes to try and remember a time before she became an adult. She let a small smile grace her face and kissed the photograph. She sealed up the envelope and put it back in the box. Instead of trying to attempt to put the heavy box of images back up in the closet she just pushed it to the corner of the room. Ginger knew she'd be back to it soon enough, there were lot of pictures to go through. She made a mental note to head over to the craft store to grab some photo albums.

  Although Ginger was getting older she still had hope that she would have a family one day, maybe a little girl or a little boy that she could tell stories to about what a wonderful grandfather they had. And be able to show them the pictures of all the things that they did together.

  Ginger took her one image and decided to head back to the couch. While she was walking back down through the hallway she heard the computer bleeping again. Ginger assumed it must have been her dad's friend Jack. He seemed nice enough, but she also got a little strange vibe about him always messaging her father or perhaps it was just strange that her father had never mentioned Jack before.

  As she rounded the corner she heard her stomach growl, she glanced over at the computer and debated whether or not to respond. She was hungry so maybe it wouldn't hurt just to chat a little bit and have a snack. Ginger went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of pretzels sticks and a jar of hazelnut and chocolate spread and poured herself a glass of milk. She took her snack and her picture and sat down in front of the computer. She propped her picture up to gaze upon it while she sat there.

  Ginger tapped on the keyboard and woke the screen up. She entered her father's password which wasn't really much of a password; 111. It appeared that she never did close the message board from the day before.

  Jack: Hey Arthur, I thought I'd shoot you a message. You're probably sleeping but I figured you would get it in the morning.

  Ginger stared at the computer screen waiting and wondering what he might type next.

  Jack: I will be out of town for a few days, you will never guess where my next job is. Anyway I will be somewhere in Blue Beach County. If I get a free chance I will hit you up, maybe we can grab a beer. You have my number if you need anything.

  Ginger was grateful that she didn't spill anything on the computer. She wanted nothing more than to reach back out to this guy Jack. She was intrigued by his role in her father's life, and she longed for someone to talk football with. She sighed and screwed the top back on her jar of calories and let the computer fall back to sleep so she could do the same.

  Chapter Nine

  GINGER LOOKED AT HERSELF IN a small mirror next to the front door of her father's small condominium. She applied a nice shiny coat of lip-gloss and was happy to see that the new concealer that she had recently spent too much money on was doing its job. From the outside looking in she could hardly tell her eyes spent the night before crying.

  After she rubbed her lips together she puckered them together as if to kiss the air in front of her. She moved her shoulders forward and back a few quick times as if she were in front of the camera at a boudoir photo shoot. Ginger couldn't get an appointment with her attorney until after ten so she took her time getting ready.

  Sure, she felt a little bit silly sexing herself up in front of the mirror, but who was looking. And how could she resist not fluffing her shiny
red hair. She wore an emerald green, sleeveless, mock turtleneck and a pair of cream-colored slacks.

  She had always wished that her eyes were blue or green, but hey- at least they weren't brown. She often chose bright green tops in the hopes that they would help to give her hazel colored eyes the edge they deserved. Of course when Roger caught on to why she always chose to wear green, he told her that wearing green made her look like an upside down carrot.

  When he said it to her, it stung like a sharp needle piercing through her heart. But now she blew it off and laughed at how ridiculous it sounded. She almost felt bad for him that he must have thought so low of himself that he had to constantly put her down. Pathetic.

  After she got finished admiring herself in the mirror she scooped her bag up and the keys from the crystal candy dish. She slipped on a pair of espadrilles and locked the door behind her. It was too bad she didn't have somewhere to go other than her fat old attorney's office.

  Ginger's preliminary appointment with her attorney left her feeling a bit on the deflated side. The fire she walked in to his office with smoldered out by his overly cautious advice. She was going to have to tell Jasinda.

  As soon as Ginger's car cooled off enough to roll up her windows she picked up her cell to call her friend, the friend that she was hoping to become business partners with sometime in the near future.

  "Hello?" a very peppy voice questioned from the small speaker near her ear.

  "Hey." It sounded like Ginger was half asking, half greeting the person who had just answered the phone. "Are you busy?"

  "Well, I was busy, but I am just finishing up, everything ok?" Jasinda asked.

  "Yeah I guess, I just thought maybe if you weren't busy you might want to go shopping? I understand if you're busy, tomorrow is going to be a very busy day and all..."

  "Stop, what did you want to go shopping for? I can spare a few hours of my day. When did you have in mind?" Jasinda asked as if she hadn't a care in the world.

  Ginger wanted to be more like that, she knew she could be. Her dad always told her that birds of a feather flock together. Of course he meant it as in stay away from the troublemakers, but she thought it should work the other way around too. If you want to be positive and carefree, be around people that emulate that. And there she was making plans with someone whom she admired.

  "I am free all day, so whatever fits into your schedule. I actually am hoping to go do some house-ware shopping. I have been avoiding tackling a bit of a remodel on my condo for some time. Actually it was my father's place and I need to make it mine." Ginger let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

  "I see. Do you know what you are looking for, or do you need me to come by and help assess your design needs?" Jasinda asked her with a bit of a fancy accent.

  "That would be so spectacular, but I think that today, because of the timing, we should just go out browsing...maybe shopping. We can talk about it while we're out. Do you want me to pick you up or meet you somewhere?" Ginger asked.

  "I am at the bar with Steve, so if you could pick me up that would be great, that way I don't have to leave him stranded without a vehicle. I left my bug at home today. Let's say in an hour from now?"

  "My pleasure. I am on the other side of town so I will see you soon."

  Ginger pulled up in front of the bar, soon to hopefully be bar and restaurant, and Jasinda was standing out in front leaning against the brick exterior wall. Even though it was nearly ninety degrees out she had on a pair of boots with her shorts.

  Ginger felt like it would have been uncomfortable and just compounded the already sticky heat. But Jasinda pulled it off. She had on a stack of beaded necklaces that were the same charcoal color of her boots. They hung over her white tank dressing up a very casual outfit. Ginger had to work at getting a curl in her hair; she thought it would be fun to have Jasinda's curly hair.

  "Hi, I hope you haven't been out here long? It's so hot," Ginger asked as Jasinda climbed in the car.

  "Nah, it's kind of a nice contrast to the extreme air-conditioning going on inside, and I only just came out. I tried to time it to when you said you would be here. I only have about three hours and I didn't want to waste any time having you waiting out here for me."

  "Ok, so then I shall have you back by your five o'clock curfew. I'm bringing you back here, right?" Ginger asked her.

  "Yes please. I need to be back around five for the shift change." Jasinda slapped her hands together after she buckled her seat belt. "So, what is our plan? What are we looking for?"

  "I'm not sure I thought we could go to one of those big box stores that has something for almost every room. I grabbed some magazines for ideas, but I was too distracted to really look at them." Ginger put the car in reverse and backed out of her spot slowly. She hated the mirrors on her car, she didn't trust them.

  "I know it must be hard."

  "No, I mean yes, but no, that wasn't what I was distracted about. I was just really blown away by the kindheartedness of some guy at Dunkin'.

  "When I got there it was like my body was possessed by a comedian or something. I left my car running, my bag fell, then I fell. It was like a bit straight out of a Laurel and Hardy movie. I was embarrassed, but I didn't think anyone saw. Apparently some guy noticed and he bought me a cup of coffee.

  "Oh, ooow. Tell me more." Jasinda scooted on her seat to get closer to Ginger as if the story would get better if she was more present.

  "I wish there was more. I didn't even see what he looked like. He did however have on a Bears shirt and he had big muscles."

  "I thought you didn't see him?" Jazz raised a brow.

  "I didn't really, maybe because I was looking at the girth of his biceps instead of his face. Besides at the time I didn't know, he did one of those pay it forward things. I did tell him he had a nice shirt as we passed each other while he was leaving. I was arriving. Isn't that the way it always is?" Ginger blew it off.

  Chapter Ten

  GINGER WAS UP ALL NIGHT working on revamping what she finally decided to claim as her own new master bedroom. Jasinda did a great job walking her through making smart purchases on their mini-shopping spree. And what a spree it turned out to be. Ginger didn't want to even look at how much money she spent.

  Jasinda talked her into just being in the moment. They set a limit and Jasinda made sure that Ginger didn't go over it. They made a record-breaking speed round in the bedding department and everything flowed from there.

  Ginger used the color scheme from the bedspread to pick out some framed art work, and some decorative pieces for the tops of the dressers and nightstands. They managed to find some really unique looking lamps at a discount store in the same shopping complex.

  They finished their trip with a stop at the hardware store to get supplies so she could paint her room. She had all night and quite frankly all the time in the world right now to work on it. She didn't want to spend the money on new furniture and her father's furniture wasn't all together very old, she thought that maybe one day she would paint it so it felt more like hers.

  It was a long night of painting and washing her new bedding. She and Roger had done a few painting projects together in her old house, but they so often turned into a power struggle that she started to just hire people to do any needed projects in their house.

  This felt different. She picked herself up a bottle of Riesling and some takeout. It felt a bit liberating doing the project by herself. Painting the room felt very therapeutic. Between coats of paint she worked on emptying out the closet. Almost all of her father's clothes were going to be dropped off for charity. She really had no use for them.

  Of course she kept all of his Chicago Bears paraphernalia. His tee's were over sized, but that wouldn't stop her from wearing them over a sweatshirt or she could sleep in them. No way would she let them go to waste.

  Even on only a few hours of sleep, she felt rejuvenated waking up in the new space. She popped out of bed and got ready with a little extra pep in
her step.

  The talk with Jasinda about her conversation with her attorney wasn't anywhere as depressing as she thought it would be. Maybe it was just Jasinda's amazing ways of looking at things, but she still felt good about moving forward.

  "Hey all!" Ginger walked into the bar at eight a.m. sharp. The time they agreed to meet.

  "I just put on a pot of coffee and Jasinda picked up muffins from her girlfriend's cafe. She popped them in the toaster oven to warm." Steve waved her in.

  He looked like he might not be approachable with his arms covered in tattoos. He was at least six feet tall with a nice clean looking haircut. His face had weathered from some rough times as a teenager, but the roughness of his skin fit his look. All of his gruffness melted away when the man smiled at you.

  His smile curled up in a magical kind of way to expose more than just his brilliant white teeth. It exposed the kindness in his eyes and let you know that he would likely give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

  "I love muffins. Is she in the kitchen?" Ginger asked as she gave him a short but warm hug.

  "Yes, wish she was in the kitchen that often at home." His chest rumbled at the thought.

  Ginger slapped him on the arm. "Stop it, be careful what you wish for."

  She swung open the door to see Jasinda all dressed up. She had on slacks and a white blouse with a pair of gold high heels. Her hair was pulled pack into a French twist really exposing how round and high her cheekbones were. Ginger thought if she had been taller she might have been able to have been a model when she was younger.

  "Wow, woman. Looks like you are ready to get serious today," Ginger said as she gave her a hug and admired how beautifully she cleaned up.