The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel

by Stansfield, Anita

  “Like when you saw Dave get killed?”

  “Like that. But this is worse.”

  “Worse than Dave getting killed?” she asked, hearing a hint of panic in her own voice.

  Jackson knew he just had to say it and get it over with. He needed her to know because he needed her to hold him together, and he could feel himself crumbling from the inside out at this very moment. “They figured out who it was, and it’s evident he knew they were closing in.”

  “You worked with this man? It was a man?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t work with him directly, even though I’ve known him for years. Our paths have crossed on the job countless times. I’ve met his family. I never liked him much, but I just figured that was a personality difference. I never would have believed him to be capable of this.”

  “He’ll go to prison, of course,” Chas said, startled by how quickly Jackson put his hand over his eyes, then over his mouth, as if he preferred holding back the sound of his sudden sobbing as opposed to the tears that came with it. He sat up abruptly and put his head down, resigned to not being able to hide either. He pressed his head into his hands, wracked with heaving sobs that made it difficult for him to breathe. Chas was stunned. She’d never seen anyone cry that hard. And she’d only cried like that herself when she’d lost Martin and her baby. She moved to sit beside him, putting her arm around him. He immediately put his head in her lap and held to her tightly while he cried himself into exhausted silence. Chas wept silently on his behalf, unable to even imagine what the rest of the story might be.

  Jackson felt like a complete stranger to himself when he realized how long and hard he’d been crying. Then he realized where he was and who he was with, and he felt mortified—but only for a moment. His embarrassment was quickly replaced by gratitude. He rolled over to look up at her, keeping his head in her lap while he lifted his legs onto the couch. He reached up a hand to touch her face where there was evidence that she had been crying as well. It was easy to say, “I am more grateful to be here now with you than I could ever tell you.”

  “I’m grateful too,” she said.

  Before he had even another moment to think about it, he hurried to say, “He won’t go to prison. He’s dead. He took his own life when he realized there was no way out. He did it with a bomb.” Chas gasped, but he kept going. “Two of my best men had been sent to arrest him, and he knew they were coming. If they hadn’t been really sharp and really fast, he would have taken them out, too. Apparently that was his intention.”

  “Are they all right?” she asked, finally getting a glimpse into the horror he was feeling.

  “They’ll live. They’re both in the hospital; broken bones, burns, shrapnel.” More tears came. “These men are my friends, Chas. We’ve worked together for years. We’ve covered each other, trusted each other, put our lives on the line for each other. They have families. If this . . . cretin chose to sell his soul and take up with drug dealers, he should have been willing to take the consequences. But he had no right,” he said through clenched teeth, “to take innocent people with him. My people.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, certain it sounded trite, but he took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly. Trying to let it all sink in, a terrible thought occurred to her. “If you had been on the job . . . would you have gone with them to make the arrest?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope you aren’t feeling guilty that you’re not in the hospital with them.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m feeling guilty about,” he said, still sounding angry. “But that’s just added on top of the guilt I feel for not taking the bullet that took Dave last month.”

  “You can’t do that to yourself, Jackson. Guilt is something people should feel only when they’ve done something wrong.”

  “I wonder if I did do something wrong.”

  “Did you break the law? Lie to anyone? Hide the truth from people who trusted you? Did you go home at the end of any given day without doing everything you could have done within your human capabilities?”

  He thought about that for a long moment. “No,” he said.

  “Then you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “But these men have families. If I were taken in the line of duty . . .”

  “What?” she asked when he hesitated, wanting him to finish it.

  “I was going to say that no one would miss me. I can’t say that any more, can I?”

  “No, you can’t say that.”

  “It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to miss me, Chas, but if I had been killed the week before Thanksgiving, you never would have known. It would have made no difference to your life.”

  “That’s just it, Jackson, you have made a difference in my life. But what about the men you work with who surely care for you the way you care for them? They would have noticed. And maybe you’re the one capable of helping your friends put their lives back together after what’s happened.”

  “How can I help them when I can’t even stand up straight?”

  “You’re still in shock. You need some time. A day will come when you’ll know what to do, and you’ll understand why you’re still alive. With any luck it will have something to do with me.”

  Jackson pondered the implication and felt strangely comforted. Whether or not she ended up a part of his future, the hope of that possibility gave him something to live for, as opposed to just staying alive. “With any luck,” he repeated with conviction. He recounted the way she had responded to his grief and felt in awe that any person could be so good. He had to ask, “What is it about you that makes it so easy for you to be so . . . kind? So understanding? So compassionate?”

  She tipped her head as if it were nothing, then she said, “Christ taught that we should mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort. It’s just the way I believe we should live.”

  “Your grandmother told me you’re a Christian woman. She’s right, of course.”

  She pressed a hand to the side of his face. “It’s no sacrifice to behave that way when you love someone.”

  Jackson sat up and turned to face her. “Do you, Chas? Do you really?”

  “I do, Jackson,” she said, taking his face into her hands. “I love you.”

  He let her words fill him, then he wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “I’m so glad,” he murmured, “because I love you, too. I don’t know how I ever survived without you.”

  Chas held him close and reminded herself that he was grieving and in shock. She didn’t question his feelings or his sincerity. But she had to be prepared for the likelihood that once he found his footing again he would go back to his old life, and he would find a way to survive without her. In the meantime, she was glad to have him here, and prayed that she could help him find his way through the swamps of grief that had engulfed him this day.

  CHAPTER 10

  “I need to check on Granny and help her with a couple of things,” Chas said, easing away from Jackson. “Will you be okay for a little while?”

  “Of course,” he insisted. “Thank you . . . for listening . . . for caring . . . for being wiser than I am.”

  “I don’t know about that last part. But you’re welcome on the others.” She kissed his cheek. “I won’t be far. Let me know if you need me.”

  He nodded, and she left the room. When the reality of what had happened descended over him again, he laid back on the couch and covered his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it.

  * * * * *

  “Is something wrong?” Granny asked Chas when she came into the room.

  Chas gave her a brief explanation, then helped her get cleaned up and out of her pajamas. While Granny was in the bathroom, Chas checked on Jackson. He was either asleep or pretending to be, so she left him alone. Once Granny was dressed for the day and her hair combed and teeth brushed, she insisted that Chas help her into the wheelchair and take her into the parlor. Th
ey entered quietly, not wanting to disturb Jackson’s rest, then Chas left her there while she took care of some things that needed her attention.

  Jackson realized he’d been dozing and wondered how he could possibly sleep under the circumstances. But then all of that emotion had surely sucked the strength out of him. He opened his eyes and found Granny sitting in her wheelchair, watching him.

  “Who let you out?” he asked, knowing that she knew him well enough to understand his humor.

  “I thought maybe you could use a friend.”

  “I won’t argue with that.”

  “You look terrible,” she said as he sat up.

  “Well, thank you very much, Granny,” he said with light sarcasm. “You look old enough to be my grandmother.”

  “That I am. So listen to an old woman who has seen a thing or two of how ugly this world can be. Some memories will always be bad, and no matter how much time passes, if you think of those things, it will sting. But they grow more distant, and distance has a way of making things fade. Distance gives perspective.”

  “Is that coming from experience or—”

  “My brother was killed in the war. You don’t have to do much math to know I mean the first world war. He was older than me. I loved him, looked up to him. The wood box he came home in was never opened. They said we wouldn’t have recognized him. I had nightmares over it for months. Couldn’t talk about it for years. This world can be an ugly place, young man.”

  “Yes, it can.”

  “You know more about that than most people. You probably have a lot of memories that sting.”

  “I’m afraid I do, but this is a tough one.”

  “I can well imagine. If I had to go through losing my brother again, there’s one thing I would have done differently.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I would have tried to have more faith, more hope. I would have tried to see the joy in life that I was missing because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. One day, years after his death, I realized that I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. He was at peace. He was in a better place. I’ve never been one to go to church much, but I believe that Jesus did what He said He did. I believe He’ll take care of all the things we can’t fix in this life. If I’d believed that back then, I think I would have gotten through it a lot easier.” She paused and gave him a hard stare. “Chas taught me that. There’s a difference in missing someone you love, and allowing grief to destroy your life and rob you of your peace. She knows that difference. You could learn a lot from her. I did.”

  Jackson took her frail hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Granny. You and your granddaughter have both been a great blessing in my life.”

  “And the other way around,” she said, which surprised him. “It’s going to be okay, but while it doesn’t feel like it ever will be, you know where to find me.”

  “Thank you,” he said again.

  They talked for a few more minutes, then he took her to her room and helped her to the other chair, which was more comfortable. He found Chas in the office, and she came to her feet when she saw him. He eagerly took the embrace she offered, holding her in silence for long moments while he could almost feel her strength seeping into him.

  “You okay?” She took a step back and looked up at him.

  “I think I’m in shock at the moment, which is probably good. I need to make some phone calls. I should do it while I can sound rational.”

  “You didn’t eat. Can I get you something?”

  “No, thank you. I don’t think I can eat right now. I know where to find food when I’m hungry. I’ll be fine.”

  She touched his face. “I’m not going anywhere, so let me know if you need anything—anything at all.”

  “I’ll let you know,” he said. “Thank you.” He kissed her brow. “Granny said I could learn a lot from you. She’s right, of course. She’s always right.”

  “Whether she’s right or not, she’ll insist that she is.”

  “Ninety-three years should earn someone that privilege.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Will there be guests this evening?”

  “Yes; four rooms rented tonight besides yours. And my home teachers are coming this evening, but they usually don’t stay long.” At his confusion she clarified, “It’s a church thing. Two men are assigned to each household to pay a monthly visit. They give a spiritual message and just make sure everything’s all right. They’re coming at seven. You’re welcome to join us, or you can hide.”

  “Okay,” he said and went upstairs to his room. Now that he knew what had happened, he felt the need to speak with every member of the team, and a few other people as well. He wasn’t able to talk to the two men in the hospital, but he talked to others who had seen them and got a detailed report. With some of these people he knew they needed him to be strong, and he knew how to do that. With others he could be a little more open and tell them he was struggling to cope with this. But he realized through every conversation that there was no one with whom he could completely be himself. He was the one who had established the dynamics of these relationships. He’d kept himself closed off and independent all these years for a reason. He’d never wanted the people he worked with to know too much, or care too much. And now, during the worst tragedy that had ever occurred among this group of people, he felt incapable of communicating to them what he really felt. Only Chas, a stranger until recently, could see what this had really done to him. And her Granny, of course. On both counts he felt grateful.

  When there was no one else to call, Jackson realized he was feeling nauseous again, and it would probably be wise to get something to eat, even if he didn’t feel like it. In the hallway he met Chas, who was carrying a tray.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I was bringing you something to eat.”

  “I was going down to get something,” he said and took the tray. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to,” she said.

  “Thank you. If I take it back downstairs, will you keep me company while I eat?”

  “I would love to,” she said. “Let’s take the elevator.”

  “There’s an elevator?” She led the way around the corner, and he observed, “So there is.”

  Jackson felt a little better after he’d eaten and told Chas about the conversations he’d been having. The shock he felt was still intact, but he preferred it that way. He just hoped when he exploded again, he could handle it.

  When suppertime came Jackson wasn’t hungry yet, but he made it a point to be reading the newspaper in the parlor at seven when the home teachers came. His curiosity was a strong motivator. It also helped distract him from thinking about things he’d rather not think about right now. He heard the doorbell ring, then saw Chas go down the hall. She stopped and took a step back when she saw him.

  “Oh, hi,” she said. “Are you going to join us?”

  “Unless you don’t want me to.” He set the paper aside.

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” she said and went to get the door.

  Jackson heard voices in the hall as greetings were exchanged, then Chas walked into the room with two men, dressed casually, who both looked fairly ordinary. His immediate assessment was that one probably worked in a cubicle; very smart, but not very social. This he could tell from the pale color of his skin, the look of his hands, and the evidence that he had worked in the clothes he was wearing. He held back and didn’t make eye contact when they came into the room and saw someone different there. The other was a blue-collar worker, probably in some kind of construction, and self-assured. This he could also tell by the condition of his hands and the look of his skin. And the fact that he had obviously showered and changed his clothes before going out for the evening. He stepped forward with a smile and held out his hand to Jackson before they were even introduced. Jackson came to his feet and took the firm handshake.

  “Hi, I’m Ron,” he said.

  “This is
Jackson Leeds,” Chas said. “He’s a guest at the inn, but he’s more on a lengthy retreat than just a short getaway.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jackson,” Ron said. He motioned to the other man who pushed his glasses up his nose and held out his hand with some hesitance. “This is Jerry.”

  “Hello,” Jerry said, and Jackson nodded. The visitors sat on one couch. Jackson sat back down, and Chas sat beside him. Jackson was asked questions about where he was from, what he did for a living, and if he was enjoying his stay. When the subject of the FBI came up, it sparked interest and questions, as it usually did, but Jackson was used to that. Ron gave a brief spiritual message, which included a little story about a boy being saved from a terrible accident by a prompting from the Holy Ghost. Jackson listened and nodded occasionally, feeling a little dazed over such a concept. It felt like a foreign language to him. But then, his brain was naturally more foggy today than usual, so he didn’t give the matter much thought. They asked Chas how she was getting along and if she needed help with anything. She assured them that she was doing fine and reached for Jackson’s hand as she said it. He didn’t know if she’d done it unconsciously, or if she wanted these men to know there was something romantic going on. Either way he welcomed her touch and her reassurance that he was part of her life. Before the men stood to leave, one of them said a prayer. Once they were on their feet, Ron stepped toward Jackson and once again shook his hand, saying that it was a pleasure to meet him and he hoped that his stay would be pleasant. He told Jackson that Chas was a wonderful woman, almost as if he were congratulating them on a forthcoming marriage and he was thrilled to know she’d found someone. Jackson felt warmed by the apparent acceptance and approval, but he was more interested in the fact that Jerry was talking quietly with Chas and that she looked mildly annoyed. While he was pretending to listen to Ron, his ear tuned discreetly to the other conversation, startled to hear this man say to Chas with astonishment, “You’re dating a nonmember?”