She took a shuddering breath, unable to look away from the doctor’s sympathetic gaze. “When Jacob died…I wanted to die right along with him. You have no idea what it’s like to go on living when everything you’ve ever lived for is gone.”
Owen visibly flinched next to her.
“You’re right, Mrs. Nobles,” the doctor admitted in a soft tone. “I’ve never lost a child. However, I do understand loss. It’s true that everyone processes grief in their own way, but it’s been three years. We should be seeing progression not regression.”
“I’m doing the best I can…”
Propping his elbows on his desktop, the doctor murmured, “You have to stop blaming yourself for your son’s death. There was nothing you could have done to save him.”
“Had I been home to get him off the school bus, he wouldn’t have been hit by that oncoming car.”
Doctor Knox shook his head. “The driver of that car was drunk. There was nothing you could have done to stop him.”
Jessica’s mind processed the doctor’s words, but the guilt she felt at not being there when Jacob had stepped off that bus still remained. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?”
“My goal here is to help you cope with your pain,” the doctor persisted. “The medication previously prescribed by your psychiatrist was meant as a temporary form of relief, not a long-term fix.”
Before Jessica could respond, the doctor shifted his attention to Owen. “How are things at home?”
“About the same.” Owen cleared his throat and continued, “The fighting has lessened a bit, but the intimacy is still nonexistent.”
Jessica stared straight ahead, listening to Owen and the doctor speak about her as if she wasn’t there.
She and her husband had been seeing Doctor Knox, along with a psychiatrist, since their seven-year-old son’s death three years ago.
Though Owen had taken Jacob’s death extremely hard, he’d somehow managed to cope without medications. Not Jessica. Her mind had crawled into a dark place she couldn’t seem to come back from.
“Perhaps you should consider packing up Jacob’s things and storing them somewhere else. It won’t remove the pain you’re feeling from his loss, but it would be a huge step in moving on with your lives.”
Jessica’s heart stuttered, her mind rebelling against the doctor’s words.
Owen spoke up before she could form a response. “I feel that it’s time as well. I’ve been offered a position at another bank, which means I would be transferred. I—”
“Another bank?” Jessica interrupted, cutting off the rest of Owen’s words. “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Transferred to where?”
Shifting on his seat to face her, Owen stated quietly, “Florida.”
Jessica jumped to her feet, enraged that her husband hadn’t mentioned anything to her about a transfer before their appointment with Knox.
She marched toward the door, only to come up short when Owen appeared in front of her.
He gently gripped her by the shoulders. “Please don’t do this, Jess. Just hear me out.”
“When were you planning on telling me?” she shot back, ignoring the fact that Doctor Knox witnessed their squabble.
Owen’s hands fell away. “I only found out myself yesterday.”
“So, you thought it would be best to drop that bomb on me while we were here where I wouldn’t show my temper? Think again.” She stepped around him, jerked the door open, and fled the room.
Owen caught up with her at the elevators. His face appeared pale, and moisture gathered in his light blue eyes. “I lost him too, Jess.”
Pain penetrated Jessica’s heart, the horror of losing Jacob sliding through her anew. No matter how much time had passed since his death, she couldn’t seem to get beyond the realization that he was truly gone. “Then how can you even consider moving from Chicago—from the only home our son ever knew?”
“Jacob’s gone, Jess. He’s not coming back. It’s time we get on with our lives before I lose you too.”
Nausea rolled, nearly doubling Jessica over. She slapped a hand over her mouth and repeatedly pressed the button to the elevator. She needed to get as far away from Owen as she could. He’d betrayed her, plotting a move behind her back—a move that would take her far away from Jacob’s home, his memories…his grave.
Chapter Two
The living room light shone through the rain as Jessica pulled into the drive of her two-story home on Jenson Street.
She put the small SUV in park, switched off the engine, and leaned her head against the seat back to listen to the storm.
Owen would be up; no doubt worried sick. He’d been calling her every ten minutes since she’d practically run from Dr. Knox’s office earlier that afternoon.
Jessica had driven around for hours in the freezing weather, weeping, until she’d found herself at the cemetery kneeling in front of her son’s grave.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed with her begging Jacob to forgive her for not being there for him, when the sky had opened up and unleashed its fury.
Still, she had remained on her knees, her tears mixing with the pouring rain to spill onto Jacob’s grave.
A knock sounded on the driver’s-side window, startling her out of her reflecting. She snatched up her purse, removed the keys from the ignition, and opened the car door.
“I’ve been worried sick,” Owen yelled over the thunder and lightning, white puffs of smoke bursting from his mouth.
He held an umbrella in his hand, which he promptly moved above the open door. “It’s freezing out here!”
Jessica climbed out, cold, wet, and mentally numb. She handed the keys to Owen and heard more than saw him close the door to the SUV before allowing him to lead her shivering body inside the house.
He guided her up the stairs and into the master bathroom.
The shower came on a moment later, and the warmth of rising steam filled the room.
“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” Owen moved in close and began unbuttoning her soaked blouse.
Jessica stood perfectly still while her husband worked on disrobing her. “Can you get me my pills?”
He hesitated, his fingers on the button of her jeans. “How many have you had today?”
Indignation reared its head. “Do I ask you how many drinks you have a day?”
He stared down at her from his taller height of six-feet-two. “No. That would mean you actually cared.”
Jessica looked away, unable to deal with another ounce of guilt without crumbling under its weight.
“I’m sorry, Jess. I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s get you into the shower, and then I’ll grab your pills.”
“Thank you,” was all she could manage, stepping out of her wet jeans and climbing into the shower.
The hot water felt good on her chilled flesh. She shuddered in relief as warmth seeped into her body, forcing back the cold and relaxing her tense muscles.
“Did you eat today?” Owen called out from the bathroom doorway.
Jessica couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Though she had no appetite even now, she knew she needed food in order to take her meds without hallucinating. “No, I didn’t.”
There was a brief pause and then, “I put you a plate in the microwave after dinner tonight. I’ll just warm it up.”
She wanted to thank him but couldn’t conjure up the energy to do so. The door clicked shut a second later.
Jessica finished her shower, dressed in a warm nightgown, and made her way downstairs on wooden legs.
A plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans sat on the table next to a glass of tea and two small, white pills. Owen was nowhere in sight.
The sounds of the television spilled from the living room as Jessica took a seat and picked up her drink. She grabbed the two pills, tossed them into her mouth, and then chased them down with a drink of her tea.
Swallowing the food proved harder than she’d imagi
ned, but she forced down several bites out of necessity.
Owen’s handsome face appeared around the wall. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m good. What are you watching?” He really is handsome, Jessica thought, taking in his dark, tousled hair and light blue eyes. More guilt assailed her.
He stepped into the dining room, his glass of wine in hand, and took a seat across from her at the table. “Just the local news. It’s supposed to rain on into tomorrow.”
“I wasn’t planning on going out anywhere.” She took another bite of her meatloaf.
Owen gazed down into his glass of wine. “You could try painting again. You haven’t picked up a paintbrush since before… “
“You can say it, Owen. Since before Jacob died.”
He seemed to ignore her jab. “We need to talk about Florida, Jess.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not selling this house, and I’m not packing up Jacob’s things as if he never existed.”
Without looking up from the contents of his glass, Owen asked, “Would you be willing to go if we didn’t sell the house?”
“How could we afford to move without selling?”
Owen looked up. “We’ll dip into our savings and take out a loan against my retirement if necessary.”
Anxiety surfaced at the thought of not having access to Jacob’s room…his things. Deep down, Jessica understood that Owen was attempting to help her, knew that moving was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t bring herself to agree. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” Owen got to his feet. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Jessica watched him go in a daze as the effects of her medication began to take hold. She briefly closed her eyes, grateful for the slight numbness the drugs always gave her.
She pushed her plate aside, picked up Owen’s half empty glass of wine, and took a sip. The tangy liquid slid down her throat, numbing her even more.
Taking the glass with her, Jessica stood and carried her plate to the kitchen. She scraped off the excess food into the trashcan and loaded the plate into the dishwasher.
After downing the glass of wine, she picked up the bottle sitting on the counter and made her way upstairs to Jacob’s room.
The door stood ajar, just as she’d left it the night before. She pushed it open and stepped inside.
As with every other visit to her son’s bedroom, the longing to see him curled up in bed overtook her.
She swallowed back her tears, took another drink of wine, and moved to stand in front of Jacob’s dresser.
The same dirty shirt he’d worn over three years ago lay draped over the dresser top exactly as it always had. She picked it up and brought it to her nose.
Jacob’s scent had long since disappeared, leaving a hole in Jessica’s heart to rival the one in her soul.
She glanced around the room, the tears she’d tried to hold back now spilling down her cheeks. Could she really move to Florida and leave Jacob behind?
Turning to replace the small shirt onto the dresser, Jessica caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Even in the oversized nightgown, she looked rail thin. She was slowly grieving herself to death and destroying her marriage in the process. If she hadn’t already…
Chapter Three
Florida
Three Months Later
Owen glanced in the rearview mirror of the moving truck he’d procured and backed into the drive of their new home in Sparkleberry Hills, Florida.
Jessica hadn’t spoken much on the long drive from Chicago, but she’d agreed to come, and that was all that mattered to Owen in that moment.
After watching her nearly grieve herself to death for the past three and a half years, Owen was willing to do just about anything to bring her back from the edge. That included moving to a small town in the panhandle of Florida.
Sparkleberry Hills had been the last place Owen wanted to go. He loved Illinois. He’d been born and raised in Chicago, had a great job as a bank manager, and a decent retirement already built up. At thirty-eight years old, Owen had managed to buy a nice home and make some pretty smart investments. Life had been good until the accident that claimed his only son’s life.
Not a day went by that Owen didn’t think of Jacob. He had grieved the death of his son to the point of almost losing his mind. He’d been forced to hide his grief behind a mask of strength he didn’t feel in order to be strong for Jess.
The Jess Owen had married had faded away to a shell of her former self. She’d lost so much weight that her clothes hung on her, and dark circles rested beneath her pretty green eyes.
He hoped and prayed he hadn’t made a huge mistake in bringing her to Florida. “Am I clear on your side?”
She rolled down her window and stuck her head out to look behind them. “You have about a foot clearance over here. But there’s a low-lying limb that might scratch the truck.”
Tugging the gear into drive, Owen pulled forward a few feet, turned the wheel a little, and backed up once more.
“You’re good,” Jess called, her head remaining out the window.
Owen stopped the moving truck and switched off the engine. “Let’s go have a look.”
He waited for Jess to get out before opening his door and climbing down as well.
The pale-green cottage sat under a copse of giant oak trees. Moss hung from their low-hanging branches, gently swaying in the breeze blowing through. Rose bushes grew beneath the two white shuttered windows on the front of the house, giving the place a warm, inviting feeling.
Owen glanced at Jess. “What do you think?”
“It’s prettier than the pictures.” She never took her gaze from the house as she spoke. “Though it looks kind of small.”
“Let’s go have a peek. I was told the inside was bigger than it appears from out here.”
Jessica nodded, trailing slowly up the driveway that lead to the front porch. She stopped and waited for Owen to unlock the door.
He preceded her inside, flipping on the lights as he went. Though it was just after noon, the shade from the many oak trees made lights a necessity during the day.
The living room walls were a mint green, trimmed in white. The floors boasted of varnished wood that were bare of any rugs.
They moved on into the dining room to find the same matching paint and floors.
“Watch your footing,” Owen warned, nodding to the dip at the entrance to the kitchen.
Jessica stepped down into the spacious room, a small gasp escaping her lips.
It was the first positive reaction Owen had seen from her in longer than he could remember. “You like it?”
“It’s beautiful.” She moved forward, running her fingertips along the red-tiled kitchen counters.
The backsplash had been tiled as well in a black-and-white checkered pattern. The sink, stove, and refrigerator were a deep onyx and the microwave a blood red, same as the counters. The checkered floor tiles set off the rest of the room as did the deep, red rug in the center.
After spending several minutes admiring the kitchen, Owen left Jessica to acquaint herself with the rest of the house while he unloaded the truck.
She eventually wandered out to help him.
“You should go rest,” Owen offered, watching her struggle with a box. “The movers will be here shortly with the furniture. They can help me with this stuff.”
“Are you sure?”
A moving truck turned onto the street just then. “I’m positive. In fact, there they are now. I’ll have them set up the bed first thing, so you can relax a bit before dinner.”
She set the box down by the back of the truck. “What are we going to do for dinner?”
Owen shrugged. “We’ll Google some local establishments and see what pops up. Hopefully, they’ll have Chinese.”
Attempting a small smile, Jessica nodded and trailed back toward the house.
Chapter Four
Jessica moved through
the rooms of her new house, undeniably detached. At any other time, she would have loved the new place, but not without Jacob.
A feeling of anxiety swept through her, sending the room spinning around her. She leaned heavily against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She couldn’t have a panic attack her first day in the new place…she just couldn’t.
“Hello?”
The sound of a woman’s voice echoed off the walls of the living room, high-pitched and nasally. “Anyone here?”
Jessica’s eyes flew open. She sucked in great gulps of air attempting to rein in her panic. “I’ll be right there,” she managed to gasp between bouts of dizziness.
“Not a problem. Take your time.”
After several more heartbeats of leaning against the wall for support, Jessica managed to survive her attack. But the anxiety she felt inside still remained.
She straightened her shirt, ran a hand through her long, dark hair, and forced one foot in front of the other.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you?” a short, plump woman with bleached blonde hair announced with a smile. She held a covered dish in her hands.
Jessica attempted to return her smile but failed miserably. “You didn’t.”
“I’m Margarette Hawthorn, but my friends call me Marge. I live on the other side of the cul-de-sac, on the right. The one with the fish mailbox.”
“I didn’t notice a mailbox. Sorry.”
Marge appeared uncomfortable. She suddenly thrust the dish she held at Jessica. “I’d heard y’all would be arriving today, so I made you a casserole to welcome you into the neighborhood. I hope you like it.”
Surprised by the gesture, Jessica accepted the dish. “Thank you, Marge. I’m Jessica, and my husband’s name is Owen. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you, and it’s no trouble at all.”
An awkward silence fell.
Marge clasped her hands in front of her and gazed around at the bare walls. “I see they painted since the last time I was here.”
Zaureth Awakened: 11.5 (Enigma) Page 12