by B. K. Rivers
“I can give you some time with her before we disconnect the life support. Some patients hang on for a few days, others simply slip away. But you can stay as long as you’d like.”
Nodding, I take Gran’s hand in mine and Vic’s in my other. It’s hard not to notice the difference—one is still and slightly cold, the other warm and pulsing with life. “Thank you, Doctor Nash. I don’t want to be selfish and keep her here against her will. I’m ready for you to take her off the life support.”
As much as I despise the words that came from my own mouth, I know it is what Gran would have wanted. Doctor Nash’s lips form a thin line as he moves toward her bed. He studies the machines, then glances back at me as if to ask if I’m sure. My head slowly bobs up and down as he flips a single switch and the screens go dark. Gran’s chest stops rising and falling within five minutes.
Biting back a gasp, the tears sting my eyes and stain my cheeks. I fall against Vic, who keeps his arms wrapped tightly around me. Hot tears fall on my forehead and I know he’s mourning Gran too.
Chapter 43
Jordan
Shit. I hate funerals. I avoid them at all costs, but I had to come, for her. God, I felt like an ass as I left her on the plane, but I couldn’t go back there. For so many more reasons than I care to admit. But here I am, just about to step into a church full of people who have come to pay their respects to Gran. I’m impossibly unprepared to see Jemma again. Hell, after her obvious blow off text I’m not sure she wants to see me.
But I need to see her. I need to get some shit off my chest.
Maybe this isn’t the best time for it. But I may never have another chance.
Soft, dull music greets me at the doors of the church, along with a putrid mix of mildew and every brand of cologne known to man. The chairs, pews, whatever they’re called, are almost full, leaving me a single seat near the rear. I suppose this is for the best. I may have to cut out early.
But then I see her. Her cheeks are pale pink and her hair is styled into some sort of twisted braid that coils around her head like a halo. She’s wearing a black dress that clings to her in all the right places and makes me want to sweep her off her feet and take her to my rental car and do unholy things to her. She turns slightly, catching a glimpse of me, and her eyes widen in shock, most likely.
Shit. I shouldn’t have come.
She smiles politely at the elderly couple she’s speaking with and then starts walking toward me with an even smile that would suggest she’s neither pleased nor disappointed I’m here.
“I’m so glad you came,” she says as her graceful arms embrace me. “How did you know about the funeral?”
Of course she would think I wouldn’t know about it. But I called the hospital the next day, hoping she’d wake up. But then the nurses said she had passed away in the night and I booked my plane ticket the next day.
“Torrance is a pretty small town. It’s not hard to find out.”
Her head bobs up and down in agreement and her eyes fall to my shoulders. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.” She hugs me again and pulls away. “There’s a luncheon at the house after the graveside service if you’d like to come.”
“Of course,” I say with a smile. I was going to her house no matter what. I need to talk to her.
“Great, I’ll see you after, then.”
I watch her walk back and take her seat as the preacher stands in front of the people gathered.
***
Somehow Jemma’s house has changed since I saw it last. Sure, Gran is gone, but that’s not it exactly. It’s almost as if the whole place is sagging, like the house is weeping over the loss. I haven’t seen Jemma yet, but I know she’s here. I can feel her presence. She has this way about her that fills your senses with peace and calm; and I feel it here.
“Hey, stranger.” A soft hand rests on my shoulder and I’m welcomed into a warm hug. “Thanks for coming. Gran would have liked that.”
“Jemma, is there someplace we can go to talk?” There’s no use in putting this off any longer. This thing between us is only growing heavier. She stands fully upright, scans the crowd of people in her house, and then guides me out the front door to the stables. The horses nicker at us as we walk in and the smell of sweet feed and horse is almost intoxicating. Jemma stands near the wall with her arms folded across her chest, a sure sign she’s feeling nervous.
“Listen,” I say, hoping I can get this all out. “I’m really sorry that I left you to fly back to Warner alone. I had a show the next day and, to be honest, I kind of freaked out.”
“Jordan, I—”
I raise my hand slightly to cut her off. “Please, let me finish.” She sucks in her bottom lip and nods. “I have so much to say, yet none of it seems to be right. So I’m just going to come right out and say what’s most important.”
I take a deep breath and give myself time to man up and talk. “I love you, Jemma. I’ve been an arrogant ass and selfish and, God, I don’t know if I’d even be alive if it weren’t for you. You saved me that day, even though I threw all you’d given me out the window. You’ve been in my thoughts every day for so long, and I’ve tried to do right by you since going to rehab. I know life with me won’t be easy. I’m moody, irritable, and always horny, but I love you. I love you so much it hurts when I’m away from you.”
“Jordan, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you love me, I know you do.”
Jemma’s head keeps shaking side to side in short jerks and tears pool on her eyelashes. Her bottom lip quivers and I think she’s about to burst into tears. God, what have I done? Quickly, I close the distance between us and wrap her in my arms. She melts into my chest and hot, wet tears begin to soak through my dress shirt.
“You’re not in love with me, Jordan,” she says against my chest, making my heart constrict. “You’re in love with the idea of me.”
My arms hold her closer as she tries to pull away. I have to find a way to convince her of my feelings.
“Jemma, you’re wrong. I fell in love with you months ago. You remember that day on the swing? I fell hard sitting there with you.”
She pulls away regardless of my confession and stands back, her moist eyes studying me. I can feel her slipping away from me, like a dream I’m waking from and having a hard time recalling. This can’t be happening.
“Are you in love with him?” I ask, dreading her answer. Her lip quivers and another tear glides down her pink cheek.
“For so long I dreamed about you telling me you loved me,” she begins. Her back is to me and I want so much to reach out and pull her back into my arms. “Since I was fourteen, marrying you has been all I ever wanted. But then I got pregnant and everything changed.”
Pregnant? When was she ever pregnant? “Jemma,” I say, reaching for her.
She turns back to me, holding her hands in front of her. “Please let me finish.” She pauses and I take a step back and run a hand through my hair. “I’ve lived for so long by these rules I created for myself to protect my heart, and as much as I had wanted you to be the one to break through them…” She sighs and closes her eyes. “It was Vic. I never planned on him, never thought someone like him could love me. But he does. And I love him too.”
“Shit,” I say, and clasp my hands behind my neck. This is not how I imagined things going today. I never thought it was possible for Jemma to drive a stake into my heart. Nevertheless, she has, and it hurts like hell. My chest clenches as she reaches for me and I know if I don’t push her away, I’ll regret my actions.
“Listen,” I say gruffly, “I’m going to head out. I’m really sorry about Gran. Take care, all right?”
“Jordan,” she calls as I walk away from her. God, I could use a drink. As calmly as I can, I walk to the piece of crap rental car I’m driving, climb inside, and drive off in a hurry.
Chapter 44
Jemma
I take the stairs to my bedroom two at a time, knowing the looks I’m receiving from Gr
an’s…or rather, my guests. I can’t do this right now. The entire house feels like it’s closing in on me and I have nowhere to run. How could he tell me that? On this day! My bedroom door opens with a groan and I turn to see Vic making his way through. It’s funny, he automatically ducks as though the doorway is too short for him.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he sits next to me on my bed. How do I answer him? I’m not okay. My Gran is gone, Jordan just confessed his undying love for me, Vic has all these expectations…I’m definitely not okay.
“I take that as a no,” he says softly, and pulls me into a hug. “I hate to say this, but there is someone downstairs I think you should talk to.”
My head pops up, and something in the dark of Vic’s eyes tells me he doesn’t mean Jordan.
“Who is it?”
“I’m not sure I should say, maybe he should just come up and the two of you can talk?”
“He?” I don’t like the careful tone of Vic’s voice or the manner in which he’s delivering this news. “I’ll meet him downstairs.” A part of me feels like a wild beast in that I want to growl at Vic for refusing to tell me who’s waiting for me. I square my shoulders as I stand to leave.
“I’ll come with you,” Vic says as he echoes my movement. We walk together down the stairs and I smile and nod at some guests who pat my shoulders in consolation. Vic guides me down the hall to my Gran’s room and my stomach balls into knots as he opens the door for me. Inside, sitting on Gran’s bed, is a man with silver-brown hair cut short around his ears, a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard, wearing black dress pants and a sky blue button-up shirt. He’s running his long fingers over an envelope in his hand and somehow I find myself staring at the man who left me with Gran all those years ago.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I say through my teeth, my hands trembling at my waist. “Get out of here, you don’t belong in her room. How dare you come here.”
My father stands and stares down at the envelope in his hands. “Jemma, I’m sorry.” His eyes find mine but I can’t bring myself to look at his face. “She wrote me a letter and asked that I give this one to you.”
I reach out and take the letter from him and start to walk out of the room, but I turn one last time back to my father.
“You can go now,” I say, forcing unwanted tears from spilling down my cheeks. I will not cry in front of the man who abandoned me so long ago. I will not let him see the hurt that still feels so fresh and cuts like a knife.
“I was young, and stupid,” he says solemnly. “Can we talk, maybe catch up?”
Vic squeezes my shoulders and excuses himself. I want to attach myself to him and let him drag me from this room, but he’s too fast and the door is already closing behind him.
“What do you want?” My tone isn’t kind.
“I want to get to know you. I want to have my daughter in my life.”
A singular laugh bubbles from my lips, shocking even me. “Get to know me? You’re kidding, right? You left a four-year-old, emotionally wrecked little girl here sixteen years ago. Despite all the times her grandmother told her you loved her, she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe a father who loved his little girl would pack her a suitcase and leave her. How could you leave her? How could you leave me?”
My chest is heaving and the tears are flowing regardless of my efforts to stop them. My father makes a move to stand beside me, but I shrug him off.
“You have no right to be here and try to comfort me. You weren’t there for any of the sad times, or the happy ones. Why are you really here?”
He clasps his hands behind his back and begins pacing the room. As I study this man, none of his gestures stir up any memories of the two of us together. Nothing about him seems familiar.
“In the letter I received from Mom before she passed away, she asked that I come to her funeral and try to make amends with you. I wasn’t going to come, but she asked me to bring your letter to you. I didn’t know what to do, but then word came of her passing and I decided I should come.”
He stops pacing, takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose. His hands clench as he folds his arm across his chest.
“When I arrived here in Torrance I was overwhelmed, flooded with memories of your mother and me, and I almost left.” He presses his fingers to his temple and I’m assaulted with a memory of him bent over a hospital bed with this same look. He watched over my battered mother after her car accident just hours before she passed away. “You look so much like her, you know? But then you always took after her more than me.”
“Why, Dad? Why did you leave me?” I haven’t referred to him in that way since I was twelve, but there is something here I can’t quite dismiss. There is a hole that was created in my heart when he left, but now that he’s here, it feels like a tiny part of that hole has been filled in.
“There is no simple answer, Jemma. I was being selfish, and my heart was broken. I figured I would leave you with my mother for a while so I could work through everything. But then time passed, I met someone, and remarried. I was afraid of bringing you into my new life, and then when Julie got pregnant, it made it even harder to bring myself to take you back. I figured you were better off with your grandmother.”
He’s remarried? And I have a brother or sister? A vise has wrapped itself around my chest, cutting my breath short and squeezing me so tight my vision flashes.
“You’re married?” I ask softly.
He swallows hard and looks at me with his brown eyes, yet another trait I didn’t get from him.
“Yeah. For fourteen years. You have a thirteen-year-old brother who is giving us hell, and an eleven-year-old sister.” He blows out a heavy breath and stops pacing the room. “I’d like you to meet everyone.”
“Are they here, in Gran’s house?” All the calm and quiet has left me, and I’m on the verge of screaming at him. How could he bring them here?
“No, they’re at the hotel. Jemma, please calm down. I knew this was going to be hard, but I’d really like to try to be a family.” He makes a move to become closer to me, but the confusion is so heavy I can’t do anything but gape at him and feel cornered like a deer in headlights. So I do what comes naturally—I push him away.
“Look, I’ve got guests here that I need to see. Leave your phone number and where you’re staying, and if I find the time, maybe we’ll get together.”
My father sighs and his shoulders drop. “If that’s what you want, Jemma. But we leave on Sunday.” That gives me three days to decide what I’m going to do. Three days isn’t long enough.
Chapter 45
In the end, I decided to meet with my dad. His wife, Julie, and their kids, Alex and Carly, were nice, though it’s weird knowing I have half-siblings, almost like waking up one morning to find you’ve grown another limb. You really don’t know what to do with it. We exchanged phone numbers with the promise of texting as a start to repairing the relationship that was damaged so long ago. I’m wondering if it’s enough.
Sleeping in the house without Gran has been difficult. I find myself going to her room, lying on her bed, and crying myself to sleep at odd times of the day. The house still smells like her, like fresh warm bread and honey, and it physically hurts knowing I can’t see her again.
I’ve read and reread the letter Gran wrote to me shortly before she passed away. Her words were filled with love, hope, and forgiveness. She asked me to find it within my heart to forgive my father, to know that in some way she had been selfish not to push him and me back together. I know in time things will get easier with him and I’ll find a place in my heart for him, but for now I’m taking it day by day. Everything in me is still so raw, and it festers like an open wound.
I know it wasn’t Jordan’s fault she died, and as much as I wanted to blame him in the beginning, it was no one’s fault. The cancer was too aggressive and the experimental medicines weren’t enough. I’ve texted him a few times to tell him I was sorry about that day of the funeral
but I haven’t heard from him. I probably never will.
Vic has sent me a few texts asking if I am okay, and each one I receive is like a punch to my gut. I know where I want to be but I don’t know how to get there. It’s like a divide has fallen between us and I don’t know how to cross it. Have I done too much damage to repair what was there? He told me he loved me and I basically threw it back in his face by accepting Jordan’s trip to Denver. I know now I was more than just scared about how intimate my relationship with Vic had become; I was scared of my true feelings for him. In my life the people I love seem to leave me, so I think in a way I tried to push Vic away. But I won’t do that anymore.
It’s been a week since Gran’s funeral and the days have passed achingly slow. Knowing Vic is off work today, I shower and dress quickly in a cute strappy pink sundress and curl my hair so it hangs in loose waves over my shoulders. I keep my makeup simple all while trying to calm the butterflies doing Zumba in my stomach. It’s now or never, and I’m not willing to accept never.
Driving as fast as I can without risking a police officer pulling me over, I fly down the highway, hoping Vic will be at one of two places this morning. I nearly miss the turnoff to the bumpy, dusty road that winds down to the stream by his house. The trees along the narrow road are still as statues, keeping the dust hovering over the ground. When the stream is in view my heart skips a beat—his truck isn’t parked where I thought it should be. But I won’t give up.
My car stops at the edge of the stream, and I climb out and start walking the small rise to his house. If he’s here working it’s likely he drove his truck closer so he wouldn’t have to haul heavy things so far. That’s what I keep telling myself as I near the top of the rise.
The house, I see it now along with two trucks, one of which is Vic’s. Swallowing the lump I feel in my throat and blinking away tears of the unknown, I walk the rest of the way to the house. It’s changed quite a bit from the last time I saw it. I guess I didn’t realize how often he’s been here working. Where there were only studs and a roof, now there are actual exterior walls clad in wood siding, windows, and a front door. My chest swells with pride at all Vic has accomplished.