Jake watched her walk away with no little amount of frustration boiling inside. He understood all right. Understood that this was far bigger than she could possibly realize. The minute the door closed behind her he pulled out his cell and hit the number he found himself calling more often than he cared to of late. It barely rang twice before it was answered.
"Danner here." And after the slightest of pauses, "I figured you'd be calling soon."
"I'm sure." Jake struggled to stay calm. "I don't know yet what she plans to say exactly but Beth plans on stepping into the fray with her video."
"Her folks?"
"Oh, that and more." He'd heard the pain but he'd heard the strength as well. He knew without doubt there'd be no turning her back. "She doesn't know it all." At least he hoped like hell she didn't. "But with what she already knows she's figured out enough to know that they didn't have to die. That it was staged like a damned play with her parents the tragic victims for all the world to martyr."
Mark didn't have to hear more. "Any chance of changing her mind? Explain what the ramifications could be."
"I figure she's decided the worst of the ramifications has already happened. Not much worse can be done to her the way she sees it."
"Unfortunately she has a point."
Jake knew that but it didn't change his desire to protect her from the blowback this could undoubtedly bring. They’d almost gone this route once before but didn’t because of similar concerns. Mostly on his part.
"Jake," Mark spoke into the silence. "Terry wants to talk to you...here."
"Jake," Terry looked at her husband. She could almost hear his mind working as he was most probably running through possibilities trying to decide on the best way to handle what could happen after. It was always the after that could cause the most damage. "Jake," she started again, focusing on the man she knew was doing his best at being a father to the young woman he was only just beginning to know. "Beth needs to do this." She waited for the explosion and was shocked when it didn't come.
"I know." He cleared his throat. "How do you know?"
"Bits and pieces of what's been said over the last couple of months. Enough to know that she feels a tremendous need to do something. If it wasn't this it would be something else."
"Yeah." He could understand that. Been there and done that.
"Jake," she spoke cautiously now. "I know you plan on doing your own piece on this project," she paused, waited for him to say anything and when that was met with silence she continued on carefully. "There's no reason why you couldn't be part of hers as well. I don't know if she would be willing but if you could help her to see that including you in it would add credence to it she might." She could almost hear his wheels turning, from the way her husband was studying her as they sat parked in front of their wonderful new home she had no doubt his was as well.
"Go on," Jake said as he thought about what he was hearing.
"It wouldn't just add credence to what she wants to say, but in the event it gets out of hand...."
"Of which there's no doubt," Jake said dryly.
"Yes, well, it would provide another...hmmm..."
"Target."
"Not so much a target but she wouldn't be a young, grieving woman standing alone. You standing with her, making what most are now whispering about in regards to your relationship to her a statement instead of a secret, well that would simply state that she's not standing on this alone. You know as well as I there will be reactions to it. That can be tempered not just with your presence but how it's presented. Sit down with her, get an idea of what she wants to say. Help her to say what she wants but in such a way that she gets her point across without opening herself to any more backlash than what can be avoided."
"Terry."
"What?" She unconsciously straightened her back expecting him to tell her to mind her own business or something of that sort.
"Thanks."
Terry looked at the phone that was now dead. Jake had obviously ended the call immediately after his surprising statement. She looked at her husband. "He thanked me."
"He should." Mark sighed. "Let's go inside. I need to make some calls."
"Going to try to soften the impact?"
"Might as well."
"If you've got connections there's nothing better to use them for." Terry chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should quietly do the same. As they walked inside she also wondered if Jake could possibly achieve what she'd suggested.
Jake stood out on the porch for several long minutes before he opened the front door to follow Beth into the house. He spent those minutes playing possible scenarios through his head and decided that none worked as he liked and even if they did likely wouldn't end up coming out like he planned. Not much did that you planned out ahead of time. As he walked through the front room past the old upright piano he'd yet to spend the time he wanted to on a memory from years past came to him as suddenly and unexpectedly as the gentle breeze that blew past him barely moving the air but enough to ripple the pages of sheet music on the piano. Suddenly he was back sitting around a little table sharing old times and fond memories with Lizzie and Jett in a small New York City pub. In the midst of those hours together they'd repaired the friendship that had been painfully tested decades before. It was during that all too short reunion that Lizzie had talked him into playing on the pub's antiquated and out of tune piano. By the time he was done both of them had joined him and as in days gone by their voices had combined seamlessly. Before they'd parted that night Jett had shook his hand, spoke softly and all the more serious for it. Had told him they would always be friends, that the child would always be part of all of them and there was more of Jake in the child than he could possibly imagine. Uncertain of how to respond he had half jokingly said that if God was good his stubbornness wouldn't be one of those traits. Lizzie had stepped up beside them at that moment and assured him it was indeed one of the characteristics he'd passed to the child they shared.
He hadn't thought about that in years and wondered why he would now of all times. Maybe you fool, he thought to himself, because it's a portend of what you're about to deal with. The gentle breeze of air again flowed through the room past him, this time causing him to look around wondering if he'd left a window open only to find every single one was snuggly shut. Why should that surprise him? As he had so many other times in his life he closed his eyes and simply opened himself. Not for the first time in these later years of his life did he smell his mother's unique scent. It was one of those things that never left you. A solid reminder of the first woman in every man's life. He could hear the music, one of her favorite songs and one she would often bang out jauntily on the piano. She didn't play well but she had played with immense joy, singing along with the barely recognizable tune. He could all but hear her voice singing the words and with the music came memory after memory. So many that he could barely keep up. But the one that kept replaying had to do with that very song. A song he had played that last night with Jett and Lizzie. All three of their voices singing of a time past, days long gone but never forgotten, always remembered despite the days and years between, days that never seemed as far away as this moment. And he could hear his mother patiently responding to why she never tired of that song. It was a catchy tune, she'd told him with a smile. Then more seriously told him to listen to the words and then had held his hands in hers, live the life you choose, she'd said. And to never stop dreaming no matter what. Then in that quiet way of hers that made you stop and really listen, his mother had told him that losing didn't really matter as long as you always stood up for what you believed in.
His eyes snapped open as he felt the breeze sweep by him this time not gently but with urgency of shattering glass. The piano music laying loosely on the bench was caught in the air and fluttered to the floor. He wasn't surprised in the least to see one particular piece sitting face up on top of all the scattered sheets spread across the floor like a carpet. Those Were the Da
ys.
Beth sat quietly at the table nursing her cooling mug of hot chocolate. She had heard her father come in long minutes ago and wondered what was keeping him. In the months since they'd become cautious housemates she’d learned early on he would take whatever time he needed before broaching a subject. Any subject. But especially those he was uncomfortable with. She had no doubt whatsoever he was uncomfortable with this. She looked up questioningly as he walked into the kitchen from the dining room.
"I get it." Jake spoke as he moved around the kitchen fixing his own hot drink. He would have preferred something stronger but decided long ago the solutions of his youth while effective weren't always as desirable the closer he got to fifty. "I don't like it and would rather you didn't do it but I understand." He turned, saw the stubborn determination Lizzie had so casually and happily commented on. She had been absolutely correct. It was like looking in a mirror. His mother would have seen it long before this. He sighed. Maybe she had. Did. Who was he to question all the things between heaven and earth that couldn't always be seen. Or touched, he thought with no little regret. He felt the gentle breeze of air touch his face again, a wispy feather-light stroke. Mom. The grief was there, would always be there, but outweighed by the ever present longing for these fleeting moments of connection. He wouldn't trade these moments of her touch for anything.
"Jake." She'd seen that faraway look before. Had her own thoughts on it but now wasn't the time. There were other things to resolve. At least in her father's mind. "I have to do this." That he understood wasn't enough. Not for her. Not on this. Never on this.
Jake heard the music in his head slowly fade away but it left behind the memories. And the lesson. He closed his eyes on the memory. His mother had been big on life lessons. He sat down heavily, his mug held tightly between his hands. And simply looked into his daughter's eyes. "Tell me what you want to say." He saw the guarded surprise. "What is the message you want to get across?"
After a bare moment of hesitation Beth told him. Slowly at first watching his face for reaction. And before long she found he did understand. While she didn't agree with all of his suggestions she understood his reasoning for them. Understood that to be heard she needed to speak so people would listen. It didn't take her long to realize her father had a unique insight for communication so the audience wouldn't just listen but hear. By the time they were done she no longer had a collection of words but a message. And whether she liked it or not she was to have a partner in delivering that message. While she would have preferred it otherwise it didn't take much to realize that perhaps her father had as great a need to make this statement as did she. He had already done much of that with his eye popping exposé of the rogue wave of media who had been responsible, even if only indirectly, for her parent's violent deaths and so much more. But this was personal. And the message was personal.
As they both sat sipping their second cup of hot chocolate, each quietly caught up in their own thoughts, Beth remembered that moment when he'd first walked in, his eyes on her but his thoughts somewhere else. Having survived their first major disagreement she took a deep breath and delved into his private space as she never had before. "When you first walked in," she watched him look up, peer into her eyes with his own steady and strong. "You were thinking of something...someone."
Jake heard the question within the statement. Knew they'd already taken a big step forward in a way he knew Lizzie would have been pleased with. It was his hope Jett would have felt the same. And he knew that this was another. One he cared not to mess up. So he faced his child, the daughter he loved every bit as much as if he'd spent the last twenty years tying her shoelaces and drying her tears. "My mother," he said simply. "I was thinking of my mother." Very much he realized, watching his child's eyes fill, as she had been thinking of hers.
Several blocks away Court and Carrie sat across from each other at Teller's Cafe. When Court had approached her after the meeting while everyone was standing around munching she'd had no option. Addie had made it clear she was going with her mother for the evening. And if she was honest with herself, she'd wanted to come.
"So what do you think?" Court knew the woman across from him was only moving the food on her plate around from one side to another.
"It's good."
He decided not to ask her why she’d barely eaten any of it if it was that good. "I meant the meeting. The website. The plans you and Grace have come up with. What does Addie think of all of it?"
"I think she feels good about it." She gave up on the food and any effort to pretend she was hungry. "I don't know that she totally understands the big picture, the impact it could have on so many kids and adults out there who are suffering like her. Some in silence and probably many without any form of support to help them through it." Carrie leaned back, studied her own fingers intently as she seriously considered his question. "But I think for her on a personal level she feels as good as she can at the moment about it. Doing the paintings with Mom is on a different level. Sure, it's rubbing their face in it, showing them she not only doesn't need them, isn't going to let what they've done upset her and oh, hey by the way," she mimicked the universal teen. "Look at how great my life is going without you. In spite of you."
"Very good." He smiled at her almost instantaneous embarrassment upon realizing how her mimicking sounded, shook his head.
"Yes. Well...I have a number of nieces that all sound pretty much just like that on occasion, including Mallie." Carrie hated the way she sounded flustered and grasping for words. Which she was.
"That's hard to believe." And it was. The Mallie he knew seemed mature beyond her years and unflappable. "What about the website, besides not picking up on the big picture which probably isn't unusual considering what she's been through and that she is only just sixteen."
"I think she sees it as another way of thumbing her nose at those who did this to her. I'm not even certain she completely realizes what the impact of having nationally known folks standing up with her on this will have on it. She sees them as Mary who makes great muffins, Jake and his wry sense of humor that no one quite gets. Mom is even more well-known on the national level in some ways and I know for a fact Addie doesn't quite clue in to that at all."
"They're part of her world. She doesn't see them in their professional place in the world because to her it's personal." And now would be the perfect time to tell her what he should have long ago.
"Exactly." Carrie wondered again how a man without children could be so in-tune to them.
"Carrie, would you come back to the house with me." He laughed and reached across the table for her hand. "Oh, that will come one of these days, but there's something there I really need to show you. Something I should have told you about long ago."
Carrie studied the worry she could see in his dark eyes. "Why haven't you?" was all she asked.
"Fear. Pure unadulterated fear."
Now she laughed. This was the last man on the face of the earth that she could even begin to imagine as afraid of anything.
"Really," he insisted, charmed by the sound of her laughter and the way it transformed her normally serious expression. "Please." He reached across the table with his hand palm up, waiting for hers. When she reached to take it he stood with her, stopping only long enough at the door to take care of the tab.
They made the trip to his house, only blocks away, in silence. Carrie took in the quiet streets as they flowed by. She felt more at home in Burlington in the few short months she'd been here than she ever had in the decades she'd lived in DC.
As they pulled into his garage from the alley running behind his house and beyond that next door to Mary's, she took the time to study her grandmother's house from a vantage point she'd not had before. There was so much of her childhood tied to that house. It seemed no matter how she looked at it, from whatever direction, it brought back so many memories she had long ago set aside. Even now, when she'd least expect it, she'd w
alk to the door and half expect her grandmother to answer it, to be in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on one of those wonderful cakes that were always there waiting for them when they arrived.
"Carrie." Court almost hated to intrude on where ever she had gone. Her face had literally transformed in front of him. Not that there was anything to complain about to start with. But as she'd stared at her cousin's house next door a quiet tranquility had come over her expression. He'd seen the slightest of smiles and knew that she was somewhere else remembering. As she turned to look at him he sighed. "I'm sorry."
Summer Street Secrets (The Hills of Burlington Book 3) Page 8