Second Chances

by Abbie Williams

  “We better go tell Christy what’s going on,” Rich said then. “Come on. Do you want an ice cream or anything?”

  I was about to say no, but then thought better. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  An hour later we sat around a high top at Bob’s Bowl, Bob himself joining us. He let Christy have the rest of the day free in light of everything, and she was on her second draft beer, her eyes red, though she was past crying and in the angry phase now.

  “I just can’t believe they used those police reports as a character reference,” she said again. Rich had explained that part of what landed Bly in jail this time were the two separate reports involving fights: the first with Christy’s ex-boyfriend Ron and the second with Jackson. Despite the fact that no formal charges had been filed from either, apparently the officers doing the reporting had not been kind and this morning’s presiding judge had not been forgiving.

  “They made him seem so violent,” Rich said. “Especially the one last spring. Bly used a weapon?”

  Christy cringed a little and said, “Yes, he hit Ron with the lid from the grill. It’s just that he’s so strong, he doesn’t think when he’s upset.” She looked over at me and reached for my hand again, asking for the fourth or fifth time, “How are you doing, honey?”

  I squeezed her fingers and replied, “Better. I was pretty angry before. But I’m trying to remind myself that it’s just 30 days.” Although it seemed like 10 times that. But I didn’t voice that thought and instead added, “I’ll come back when he gets out. I have to head back to Minnesota soon though, my girls…”

  “I know,” she said. “Don’t you worry about Bly. I’ll go see him all the time. He won’t be far, just over in Oklahoma City.”

  “I wish I could stay here,” I told her, though I knew I couldn’t.

  “I know,” she said again. “He understands, honey, don’t you worry.”

  I looked at Rich then, almost afraid to ask, “What about when he gets out? Will he be able to leave Oklahoma?”

  “We’ll ask Dale,” Rich assured me.

  “He’s a damn lucky fella to have you so worried about him,” Bob commented then and winked at me.

  “I love him,” I said simply.

  Bob laughed and tugged on his beard, further increasing his similarity to Dodge back home. He said, “Well, then Junior’s luckier than I thought.”

  I would leave with the morning; there seemed to be no point in staying now, though as I lay in Blythe’s bed that night, curled around my aching heart, I could hardly tolerate the thought. It wasn’t that I was trying to be melodramatic; the fear I’d cried out to Jillian earlier in the day was still coiled within my stomach like a living thing. I rolled to my other side and likewise turned my thoughts to this morning, back to making love with Blythe in this same space, holding him as deeply within myself as I could, both in my body and my heart. I still marveled that he had affected me like this, that we had fallen so hard in love. But it had happened and I wasn’t letting it go. Not ever.

  Rich had taken care of calling Mom, and I had talked to all three girls earlier, and then Jillian, Ellen, and finally Jillian again. I decided that I’d leave in the morning, and turned restlessly, feeling too hot under the covers, almost claustrophobic. I hated that I couldn’t call Blythe, couldn’t even hear his voice. I felt sick that he was probably in Oklahoma City by now, in the correctional facility there where he would serve the 30 days. No doubt he was hurting and aching as much as I was right now; I thought about every terrible prison movie or television show I’d seen. Would the guards be cruel to him? I pictured their mean, beady little eyes, nightsticks poised in hands. What if someone stabbed him with an improvised blade? Didn’t that kind of thing happen in those places? Oh God.

  Joelle, stop it, I told myself firmly, wrapping my arms around my belly and squeezing, forcing a deep breath and then another. I was being foolish thinking the worst. My thoughts turned to Blythe telling me how he still felt like a criminal, a loser, for having done time. I would have to do everything I could to negate those ideas he harbored, once and for all. Once I got him home with me and back into my arms.

  Soon, soon, soon, I promised myself. What’s a month? You’ll go back to Landon and get the girls ready for school, and help at Shore Leave, and get Camille through this morning sickness, and it’ll be into September before you even know.

  And at last I drifted to sleep.

  Christy and I hugged good-bye under a low, gray sullen sky the next morning. She drew back and kissed my cheek, then handed me my travel mug, which she’d filled with piping hot coffee. Rich was still at Arrowhead Motel, where he would stay for at least another week.

  “Thanks,” I told her. “I’ll be back in a month.”

  “You’ve got his address?”

  “Yes, in pocket right here,” I told her, patting my hip. “I’ll write him all the time and he said he could call once a week.”

  “It’ll be collect,” she warned.

  “That’s okay, I would pay any amount just to hear his voice right now,” I said truthfully. “And you’ll visit him?”

  “As much as I can,” she told me, and I climbed into my car. She added, “Drive safe, Joelle.”

  “I will,” I said back. I rolled down the window and waved to her as she curled her arms around herself and then raised her palm in farewell.

  And I left Oklahoma behind.

  Chapter Seven

  August, 2003 - Landon, MN

  It was nearing midnight when I turned at last onto Fisherman’s Street and drove past the red pines that had guarded the town since Gran and Great-Aunt Minnie’s days, and certainly long before. The familiarity of Landon reached out to embrace me and I breathed a sigh, let it out slowly and deliberately. It was Tuesday, almost Wednesday now, and the downtown was quiet; only Eddie’s beer lights and the small street lamps glinted into the otherwise still, black night. Jim Olson’s rusted-out Chevy Celebrity was the only car parked on the street at this late hour, about 10 paces from the front door of Eddie’s Bar, of course.

  I drove past the Angler’s Inn and then left around Flickertail Lake, onto the lake road that wound out to Shore Leave and beyond, rolling down the windows to breathe in the lake smells. Shore Leave at last, and I smiled in sleepy satisfaction to have made it without stopping for the night. I was fantasizing about my bed, and long hours of dreamless sleep, before I spent tomorrow morning writing Blythe a long letter and getting my act together to find us a place to live. As much as I loved being here at the café, I couldn’t begin to imagine him sharing the twin bed in my old room with me while Gran snored on the other. I giggled at the thought, but the momentary smile dropped from my lips as I pulled into the parking lot to observe that Justin’s silver truck hunkered beneath the lone street light, sharing the space with Jackson’s car. Dammit. What in the hell?

  Jillian came banging out the porch door as I put the car in park and ran my hands through my hair, debating whether to just head to the house and avoid the café altogether. Jillian wasn’t kidding that Jackson was hanging around here a lot these days.

  She reached the car and cranked open my door, then practically pulled my shoulder out of its socket.

  “You’re back!” she crowed, hugging me.

  I hugged her hard in return, before drawing back and asking, “What’s he doing here?”

  Jilly sighed and rolled her eyes. “He and Justin are having a beer. To be fair, Jackie was hanging out with the kids until just a bit ago. They finally gave up waiting for you around 11:00 and went up to bed. They’d been out on the water all day and even Tish couldn’t manage to keep her eyes open.”

  “Well, I think I might just head to bed,” I told my sister, and she nodded.

  “That’s fine,” she responded. “You okay?”

  I nodded firmly.

  “You should come have a quick drink at least,” my sister chided. “I’ll have Justin take Jackie over to Eddie’s if they feel the need. I want to talk. I’m wide awake
.”

  “You didn’t drive over a thousand miles today,” I grumbled, but let her lead me towards the café, though reluctantly.

  Justin and Jackie were elbowed up to the bar when we entered; the lights in the main part of the café were clicked off for the night. We kept a couple of strings of Christmas-style blue bulbs wound around the woodwork above the bar, and these were offering the only illumination in the place, except for a small lantern-style light behind the counter. I dragged my heels as we entered. Justin, closer to the front door, leaned to catch a glimpse of me and called warmly, “Welcome home, Jo!”

  “Thanks, Justin,” I said, not meeting Jackson’s eyes, though he was studying me quite openly. Jilly moved swiftly behind the bar and grabbed me a glass; hand poised at the row of tap beer pull handles.

  She turned over her shoulder to inquire, “The usual?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, not wanting to join them though Justin tipped his head at the open seat near his.

  “No, we’re heading out to the dock,” I explained to them.

  “Don’t go leaving just because I’m here,” Jackson said then, though not in a confrontational sort of way. His voice had the sound of hours of drinking, but he wasn’t drunk. Not like he’d been last weekend.

  “It’s not that, we just want to talk,” Jillian explained as she moved back around the gleaming wooden counter, pausing for a moment to twine her arms around Justin’s neck and kiss his temple. He caught her lightly around the waist and kissed her more thoroughly before releasing her. Their playfulness made my heart clench and I turned away so that the tears I felt suddenly in the back of my nose wouldn’t spurt into my eyes. I missed Blythe so much that my chest ached with physical pain, but I had to deal with it; it would be weeks until I saw him again.

  “Come on, Jo, you can’t go to bed just yet,” Jilly commanded, leading the way back through the café. “I’m too selfish. I need to hear what’s going on.” She had handed the beer off to me, and reached to grab two hooded sweatshirts from the coat tree as we made our way onto the porch, down the steps and then out onto the dock, our favorite place to talk. The stars were raging madly in the sky and I took another moment to breathe in the air and let its familiarity comfort me as I followed Jilly out to our glider at the end.

  “So, are you all right?”

  I sighed, plopping down beside her, and then said, “No. I thought he’d be with me when I came home. I hate that I can’t talk to him when I want. I hate that he feels like a loser, sees himself that way because he’s been in jail twice now. He knows I don’t care, that it doesn’t matter to me.”

  “What’s the secret?” she asked then, surprising me, though I should have learned by now not to let anything Jillian knew surprise me. “I just sensed it.”

  Despite the tiredness gnawing at my mind, I told her the story. All of it, and she listened without breathing a word. When I’d finished she said softly, “Wow.”

  I curved my left arm through her right, clinging to her, missing Blythe with a white-hot intensity. “I know, I couldn’t believe it either. And that’s why he landed in jail then, and that’s why he’s back now.”

  “Aw, Blythe,” she murmured, squeezing my arm against her side. “I knew he had a big heart. What a horrible thing to go through. Shit, Joelle.”

  “I know,” I whispered. I drew a breath and then said, “But this is it. In a month he’ll be able to come back with me if I have to hogtie him. And then I’m going to make an honest man out of him.”

  “I hate to point out that you’re still technically married,” Jilly said then, and I grunted in response.

  “Hardly,” I said. “Maybe if I sign those divorce papers Jackson’ll leave me the hell alone.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Jillian said, somewhat ominously. “He’s been getting sentimental this week, I can tell. Playing ‘daddy’ with the girls and feeling all nostalgic. I can see it all over his face.”

  “He’s always been a good dad,” I defended, not sure why I was bothering. “I can’t say he wasn’t, even if he has been a shit husband. At least in the past five years.”

  Above us the screen door creaked open and the sound of the men coming out met our ears. Justin called, “I’m heading out!” and Jilly shifted position and slipped her sandals back over her toes.

  “I’ll be right up,” she called over her shoulder. And then to me, “You gonna hang out down here?”

  “No, I’m exhausted.”

  Jillian darted up the to the porch to kiss Justin good-night (which, judging by their average, would last about 10 minutes) while I went the longer way around the café to the parking lot, where I meant to grab my purse and travel bag and lock the car. I walked with my head tipped down, studying the blacktop, and didn’t sense Jackson until he was in step with me. I was mad at myself for startling a little. He saw that and laughed, low.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you again,” he said. “And I’m sorry about the other night.”

  “I know, Jillian said,” I told him shortly, reaching my car and clicking open the trunk.

  “So what’s the word on your trip?” he asked, sounding too innocent.

  I looked over at him at that, from where he leaned on one hip against the far side of my car, both hands shoved into his front pockets. He was wearing jeans and a ratty t-shirt, a Bears ball cap over his dark curls. He appeared to have spent the day on the lake as well. I finally spoke, “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged as though my answer meant nothing. “No reason. I just wondered.”

  I hefted my bag out of the trunk and shouldered the long strap, saying, “It’s great that you’ve been hanging out with the girls. They’ve missed you.”

  “Do you want me to get that?” he asked, nodding at my load.

  I rolled my eyes at him.

  “I’ve missed them, too,” he said then, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read. Or maybe I just didn’t want to read it.

  “Well, that’s great,” I said, slamming the trunk with a bit too much force. He seemed to get my hint and backed off in the direction of his car.

  “Good-night, Joelle,” he said as I walked towards the house, but I pretended not to hear him.

  In the morning I slept in until 10:00. Upon waking I rubbed my eyes and looked over to observe that Gran was up and about, her bed neat as a pin, like usual. I groaned a little, flopping back onto my pillow and then casting a longing glance at the cell phone on my nightstand. I needed to hear his voice. Just for a moment, to let me know that he was all right where he was, and to let him know that I was thinking of him every minute, every second. I had known when I saw him in the courthouse in Brandt that he was worried I wouldn’t come back for him, even though he’d tried to hide that from me. He was worried that I would get home to Landon and realize I didn’t need an ex-con boyfriend complicating my life. I gripped the lower half of my face in one hand, horrified that he might be letting doubts dominate his thoughts, now that he had all this time on his hands. Oh God, Blythe, don’t think that. I love you. I’ll show you just how much…I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you. It’ll be all right, my sweet man.

  I couldn’t stay in bed all day, tempting as that thought might be at the moment. I had to face everyone and I wanted to write him a letter and tell him that I knew how he felt and why he shouldn’t. But first some coffee.

  Ruthann intercepted me on the lake path and I ran to catch her in a hug. She was wearing her hair up in a twist; Camille must have done that for her, because I knew Ruthie couldn’t manage such a hairstyle on her own. I rocked her side to side and planted a kiss on her right ear.

  “Ouch, that was loud,” she giggled, pulling back and then hooking her arm through mine. “I was just coming up to see if you were awake yet.”

  “Barely, but am I glad to see you,” I told my littlest. “I missed you!”

  “We missed you too, Mom, but Dad has been out here almost every day hanging out. We’ve been having fun, even though
Camille is mad at him right now,” Ruthie explained, reminding me of Tish. Usually Tish was my informant.

  “I know, Aunt Jilly told me,” I said. “How has Milla been feeling?”

  “All right. She’s grumpy,” Ruthie added. “Mama, how’s Blythe? Grandma said he had to go back to jail. Why?”

  Ugh. I decided that hedging was just cowardly, and said, “You know, he has to serve 30 days because he left Oklahoma when he wasn’t supposed to leave the state when he came up here to work. But when he’s out he’ll come back home with me, to live with us. You guys are still all right with that, right?”

  Ruthie shrugged. “Sure. It’s weird not having him around in the kitchen. And you love him?” The last a question rather than a statement.

  “I do,” I told her, quietly. “I really do.”

  “Daddy asked me and Tish if you did,” Ruthann went on, and my steps faltered for a moment.

  “What?” I asked her.

  She shrugged again, this time appearing slightly uncomfortable. But she said, “He asked us if you were going to marry him.”

  Jackson. Damn you. It’s not a word of your business.

  “What did you guys tell him?” I asked her.

  “Well, Tish said that you told us you fell in love with him. Daddy was quiet for a while after that, but then Tish was like, ‘Didn’t you fall in love too, Dad, with that woman you work with?’ and Daddy said that he was sorry that any of this had happened. I felt so bad for him, Mom, he looked so sad. I think he’s really sorry.”

  And there was the lame horse crossing the finish line. What Jackson couldn’t do directly to me he was doing to the girls. Oh, I had no doubt he was sad…because he was jealous that I’d found someone, no other reason. What a lowdown tactic. I should have seen this coming. Dammit, and Ruthie was moved by him. Well, I reasoned, they did love their dad. They always had, and I wouldn’t begrudge that. Although I had a renewed interest in taking a baseball bat to Jackson’s handsome, manipulative head.

  Tish came barreling down the porch steps and I hugged her, too. Her blue eyes were sparkling like firecrackers. She said, “Mom, Dad says he’s taking us tubing today!”