“I can’t dispute that.”
“And the message is so powerful.”
“What is that?” he asked, mostly because he wanted to hear her interpretation of its theme.
“That people can change. Many people are given opportunities to make their lives better, but they choose not to act on them. Scrooge was given a marvelous opportunity to change, and he took it. And through the changes he made in his life, he was able to affect many other lives for good.”
“You’re saying that even people like me can change for the better?” he asked, his tone mildly facetious. “Say, for instance, that I stopped drinking, or . . . forgave my mother. Stuff like that?”
“Exactly stuff like that,” she said and kissed him.
He smiled, and she settled her head comfortably against his shoulder, not wanting to think about what it would be like when he left, and praying for the hundredth time that he would choose to at least stay for Christmas. And she prayed for at least the thousandth time that when all of the current challenges in Jackson’s life were settled, he would choose to spend the rest of his life with her.
Out of the silence, Jackson said, “I have a confession to make.” He put his head in her lap and stretched out on the couch so that he could look up at her.
“Ooh. I can’t wait.”
“Charles Dickens saved my life.”
Chas took a moment to gauge his expression. “You’re serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. Do you think I would joke about something like that in a place like this?” He chuckled. “No, seriously. One of the only good things that happened in my youth was this teacher I had in junior high. I guess she saw something in me besides the white trash kid that even Social Services couldn’t save. She had a way of getting through to me with the way she taught, and then she sent me home with a Dickens novel. It was Great Expectations. I remember reading late at night with a flashlight. I loved it. I became completely lost in it. And then I wanted another, and another. I read them all. They gave me hope and perspective. That’s why I chose this place when I was Googling a bed-and-breakfast.”
“Really?”
“Really. I put the word Victorian in my search, because I love Victorian decor and architecture—probably a side effect of my love for Dickens and his time period. But yeah, it was the Dickens thing that brought me here.”
“Wow! That’s amazing.” She let out a delighted little laugh.
“Yes, it is. I guess that means Mr. Dickens brought us together.”
“So he did. You’d better tell Granny this story.”
“I already have,” he said, “but I needed to tell you, too.”
“It’s a great story. But how did he save your life, exactly, besides giving you hope and perspective? I can tell there’s more by that look on your face.”
“Very good, Detective. Yes, there’s more. As I got closer to being eighteen, I wondered what to do with my life. I didn’t have a good GPA or the money to go to college, so that didn’t seem possible. I knew I couldn’t stay in my parents’ home, or even my hometown. I hated everything about it, and as you’ve figured out, I was full of a lot of anger. I was afraid of joining the military, even though it offered some solutions. I knew it would take hard work and sacrifice, and of course, there’s always the concern about the danger involved. And then I felt drawn to rereading A Tale of Two Cities. Then I read that last line . . . ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.’”
Chas was amazed at how he quoted it perfectly, and she knew that he did because she knew it well. “That’s very impressive.”
“I’ve lived by those words, Chas, because they changed my life. I was so in awe of the concept that Sydney Carton could go to the guillotine on behalf of Charles Darnay in order to give the woman he loved a better life. And that’s when I knew that my life could have value in the military. That, if nothing else, I could sacrifice and serve on behalf of my country to make life better for someone else; then my life would have meaning and purpose. It wasn’t just a way to get out of town. It became a way of life. I lost my fear of dying when I came to believe that something good could come out of it. But I think it was that very way of thinking that’s kept me alive, and made it possible for me to . . .”
“To what?” she asked when he stopped abruptly.
“I was just going to say something that I’ve never said out loud before. It sounds . . . arrogant, perhaps.”
“Just say it. If it sounds arrogant, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
He chuckled. “I’m certain you wouldn’t be afraid to do that.”
“So, just say it.”
“I was going to say that I think my attitude and determination had a lot to do with being able to achieve a higher rank at a young age, and to receive the commendations that I was given. And because of that I was able to go into the FBI with a better position and better pay. My philosophy has carried over into the work I do there, and I think it’s served me well. That’s all.”
“That doesn’t sound arrogant in the slightest. It makes me proud of you.”
“I’ve never really cared much what people thought of me or what I do, but I have to admit that knowing you are proud of me feels good. That’s because I respect your opinion. And that is how Charles Dickens saved my life. His writings have had an impact on me, over and over again. I can’t count the times I’ve been confronted with a difficult situation, and then I would remember what one of his characters did, and it would give me a new idea or a different perspective.”
“That’s remarkable,” she said. “It’s almost like we’re soul mates, or something.”
“Yeah,” he said, tightening his gaze on her. “That is one of many reasons I believe we’re soul mates.”
She looked intrigued. “What are the other reasons?”
“I know better than to think that you haven’t noticed the commonalities between us.”
“I’ve noticed, but I want to know what you’ve noticed.”
“You married a man who joined the military at a very young age. I’ve wished that Julie would have had the conviction and commitment you did, but then it probably would have ended in divorce anyway.”
“Maybe not.”
“Or maybe.”
“I do think that you and Martin have a lot in common,” she said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, as opposed to a reason to be jealous of your feelings for him.”
“He’s been dead for twelve years, Jackson. And yes, it’s one of the highest compliments I could give. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man, and his patriotic convictions are much like yours. What else do we have in common?”
“We both love Granny,” he said, and she laughed.
They talked a long while about the things they had in common, ignoring the things that they didn’t—most specifically the clash of homes and careers and religion, and how it seemed inevitable that those things would come between them. Chas chose not to think about that now, and knew that he was choosing to do the same.
The following day Jackson had a longer-than-normal visit with Granny, enjoying her stories and antics. She was perkier than usual, and Chas joined them a little way into the conversation. The three of them talked and laughed until Granny was tired and it was time for Chas to get back to work.
That evening, they left Polly to care for Granny and the inn so they could go out to dinner. She’d decided to just stay the night since she hated to go home to an empty apartment after dark. When they were on their way out, Polly said, “I’m just thinking of moving in here. I spend more time here than I do at home, and I bet you’d give me a better deal than my rent.”
Chas chuckled and said, “It’s worth considering. Thank you, as always. We won’t be late.”
“Have fun,” Polly said.
Dinner out proved to be a delightful experience, one that Chas would always cherish. Looking at Jackson across t
he table while they talked so much that their meal dragged on far longer than normal, she wondered how he could have changed her life so quickly, and how she had ever managed without him. She knew she’d been lonely, but she’d never been able to acknowledge just how much until now. Oh, how she dreaded having him leave! She wanted to beg him to stay for Christmas, but didn’t even want to bring it up.
They returned to the inn to find Polly and Granny playing Rummy. All of the expected guests had arrived and were settled into their rooms. The breakfast and cleaning schedules for the following day were all prepared, and everything was in order. Chas and Jackson sat to watch the end of the game and cheered when Granny won. Polly pretended to be hurt and went to bed. Jackson and Chas stayed when it was apparent Granny was still in a talkative mood. When she began to wind down and admitted to being tired, Jackson gave her a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, something that had become a habit between them. Then she took his hand into both of hers and said, “You’re a fine young man, Jackson. It’s been so wonderful having you here. I hope that when you have to leave, you’ll always know that you can come back.”
“I do know that, Granny,” he said and kissed her brow again. “You sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled and patted his hand.
Chas kissed Jackson goodnight at the foot of the stairs and thanked him for a wonderful evening. He kissed her again and went upstairs to read a little and go to sleep.
While Chas went through the usual routine of helping her grandmother get to bed and make certain she was comfortable, she thought of what a privilege it was to have this precious woman in her life. She recalled the tenderness between Granny and Jackson that had become habitual, and her gratitude deepened.
“What are you thinking about?” Granny asked as Chas sat on the edge of the bed to tuck the old woman in and kiss her according to years of habit.
“I was thinking how lucky I am to have been raised by you, and to be able to take care of you now.”
Granny squeezed her hand tightly. “I’m the lucky one, honey. You’ve been such a joy to me.”
“But?”
“But what?”
“I see a ‘but’ in your eyes, Granny. You can’t fool me.”
Granny patted her hand. “You need more in your life than an old woman to care for.”
“I have the inn, Granny. I’m very happy.”
“Happier lately, I’ve noticed.”
“You are a shrewd old woman, just like Jackson said.”
“Shrewd or not, listen to an old woman who sees more than you might think she does.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something I need to say, and it’s important.”
“I’m listening,” Chas said, becoming especially alert.
“He loves you, Chas,” Granny said.
She felt only mildly surprised. Granny had seen them holding hands, and she knew that they were spending a great deal of time together, but their feelings for each other hadn’t actually been discussed.
Granny went on. “I’ve seen it in his eyes from the first time he sat down in this room. He loves you, my dear girl. Don’t let him go. Don’t let this opportunity pass you by.”
“We’re very different, Granny. He has a life far away from here, and you know I could never leave the inn. I love him too—and he knows it, but I don’t know if something permanent is possible.”
“Geographical differences can be worked out. They’re not so important in the grand scheme of things. You would have followed Martin anywhere. Would you really choose an old house over the love of a good man?” Chas honestly couldn’t answer that question. The house was stable, predictable; it wouldn’t die on her. For that and many more reasons, she doubted she could ever leave here. As if Granny could read her mind, she added, “He’s a good man. Don’t close your heart to him because you’re afraid of getting hurt again. Promise me.” Chas hesitated, and Granny insisted, “Promise me.”
“I promise,” Chas said, knowing her heart was already a lot more open than it had been a few weeks ago. But she wondered if she had been steeling herself for an inevitable end to this relationship, as opposed to truly hoping that it could work out. Or perhaps she’d believed that the only way it could work out would be for Jackson to give up his life and come here. Whatever the case, Granny’s words struck her deeply and gave her much food for thought.
She kissed Granny again and told her how she loved her, then she went to her own room and pondered the situation and her feelings for a long time before she was actually able to sleep. She woke up with a determination to enjoy the present and not worry about the future, because there was so little she could do about it. And yet her underlying prayer was that Jackson would decide to retire and spend the rest of his life here with her.
* * * * *
Jackson was barely out of the shower and dressed when the phone on his bedside table rang. It took him a moment to get his bearings and pick it up, simply because he’d never heard it ring before.
“Hello,” he said.
“Jackson.” Chas sounded so upset that his heart immediately pumped with adrenaline.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“I need you. I’m in Granny’s room.”
That was all he needed to hear before he went down the stairs so fast he nearly fell twice. Entering the open doorway, he didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t to find Chas laying in the center of the bed on top of the covers, her arms wrapped tightly around her grandmother, who was beneath the covers, the top of her silver head barely showing.
“Is she ill?” he asked, crossing the room to stand beside the bed.
Chas looked up at him with red, watery eyes. “She’s dead.”
Jackson’s stomach tightened, and he went to his knees, instinctively putting his fingers to the old woman’s throat to check for a pulse. He knew he wouldn’t find it when he felt the temperature of her skin. It was cold enough that he knew she’d probably been dead for hours.
“You don’t have to check,” Chas said through an ongoing deluge of tears. “She’s obviously gone.”
“Sorry,” he explained. “Habit.”
Chas pulled her attention away from her grief long enough to consider the implication of his words. “You’ve found many dead bodies?”
“Far too many,” he said, then he touched Granny’s face with tender reverence, and his voice betrayed a rustle of emotion. “But they never looked like this. She looks so . . . at peace.”
“She is,” Chas said through copious tears. “Someone came to get her from the other side.”
Jackson met her eyes, but she could see more intrigue than skepticism. Not many weeks ago she felt certain it would have been the other way around. “Who?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Walter; my mother perhaps. Or her parents, or . . .” She let out an unexpected chuckle that seemed so out of place at the moment that she couldn’t hold back another.
“You’re laughing?” Jackson asked.
“I was just going to say . . . or maybe it was Charles Dickens.”
“Maybe,” Jackson said with a smirk, but it was a kind smirk. More seriously he asked, “And how do you know that someone came to get her?”
“I just know. They were still here when I came in the room and found her. I can’t explain how I know. I just know.” This brought on an explosion of tears, and she pressed her face into her grandmother’s hair and wept. Jackson felt helpless and too close to the grief to remain objective. He’d grown to love the old woman in the short time he’d been here. But even more so, he’d grown to love the woman grieving for this loss. And he didn’t know what to say. He’d lost count of the people he’d had to inform of the death of a loved one, and he’d witnessed all levels of grief. But he’d been detached, more concerned with watching for clues in their behavior. Now all he could see was the stark evidence of how much Chas loved this woman, who was the only mother Chas had ever known, the only real family she’d ev
er had. Jackson just held her hand and let her cry, shedding a few tears of his own. He thought of how the situation had been reversed from not so many days ago, when he’d been falling apart and she had held him together. He hoped that he had learned enough from her support of him at the time to be the strength that she needed and deserved, now that the tables had turned.
CHAPTER 13
Chas was amazed at Jackson’s efficiency as he informed Polly of what had happened. Then he started making necessary phone calls with just a little guidance from her, while Polly called Jen in for extra help. During the preparations for the funeral, as she dealt with the shock and grief of losing her grandmother, the inn ran efficiently with Chas hardly lifting a finger, and Jackson was never far away with an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on.
When Bishop Wegg and one of his counselors came to help with the funeral plans and offer any assistance they could, Chas noticed that they talked with Jackson for a long while after their business was completed. He told her later that he thought they were good men and he was impressed. He was also impressed with the visits from the Relief Society sisters, and with the help they offered.
Polly insisted that she was just going to bring some of her things and move into the room that was rented the least, and stay there for the time being. She didn’t want Chas to be alone, and they all knew it was better to have her there for many reasons. Having Polly under the roof to help keep the business under control was a tremendous blessing. And Chas had never before dealt with the issue of being romantically involved with a guest at the inn, but with her grandmother gone, she felt it was more appropriate to have someone else staying there, especially on nights when no other guests were there. She told Jackson it was more a matter of principle than any real concern, and he seemed to understand, even though he didn’t comment.
Jackson called his sister’s home and spoke to both her and his mother, telling them about Granny’s passing and everything that was going on related to it. His mother was down with a terrible cold; otherwise, she insisted, they would have come for the funeral. He assured her that there was no need to be concerned over that. She thanked him for calling, and the next day a beautiful floral arrangement arrived for Chas from his mother and sister. She called to personally thank them, and he noticed that she visited with his mother for more than an hour.
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