The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel

by Stansfield, Anita

  Two days after Chas had found her grandmother cold and unmoving, she felt no incentive whatsoever to get out of bed. She knew that her work would be taken care of, and she felt exhausted from all the tears she’d cried. She heard a knock at the door and forced herself close enough to reality to call, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Jackson. Can I come in?”

  “It’s not locked,” she called back and heard the door open, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

  “I brought you some cocoa,” he said, and she heard the cup being set on the bedside table.

  “Thank you,” she said and stuck her hand out from beneath the covers.

  Jackson slid a chair next to the bed and sat where he could comfortably hold her hand. Chas squeezed it tightly and turned over enough to peer at him over the edge of the covers. “Why are you so good to me?”

  “That’s like asking why I exist.” She raised a brow, and he added, “I just do.” He leaned closer and pushed her hair back off her face. “How are you . . . really?”

  “I’m awful, as you can see.” She started to cry and couldn’t believe how endless the source of tears could be. “I don’t have any trouble with knowing it was her time to go. She was old and tired, and she’s in a better place with people she loves. I just . . . miss her. She’s all I had.”

  Jackson pressed a hand to her face, wanting to tell her that she had him, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that he could sit here in the midst of her grief and make promises about a future that was still vague and uncertain.

  Chas felt so lonely and starved for his company that she said without thinking, “Come closer. Hold me.”

  Jackson had to lean back in the chair and put his strongest willpower in check to keep from immediately heeding her request. He wanted to hold her, all day and all night. He wanted to give her all his strength, anything that might help her get through this. But he needed to be rational. One of them had to be. Trying to keep it light, he said, “Now, that doesn’t sound like the woman I know. Inviting a man into her bed.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know it’s not what you meant, but we both know it’s too close to the edge of a cliff. I may not see everything in life the way you do, but I’m smart enough to know that a person should never compromise their own rules—especially when they’re not thinking clearly. And no human being who is grieving should be making decisions that go contrary to their rules. You wouldn’t respect me if I actually got any closer than this right now.” He squeezed her hand to remind her that he was still holding it. He couldn’t tell if that was disappointment or respect in her eyes. He chose to think of it as respect, if only to aid his own convictions, then he lightened the mood. “Besides, what would Granny think if she knew you were breaking her rules already? What was it? All four feet on the floor? She’s probably in the room with us right now, making sure we mind our p’s and q’s.”

  Chas laughed and then cried. “I thought you didn’t believe in angels.”

  “I believe in Granny. And I believe in you. If you believe in angels, then I believe it, too. If anyone had the right to be an angel, it would be your grandmother. And if anyone had the right to be watched over by such an angel, it would be you.”

  He saw new tears in her eyes, but there was more hope than despair in their glimmer. He touched her face and kissed her brow, then he leaned back in the chair, keeping hold of her hand.

  “I’m so grateful you’re here,” she said.

  “Well, it’s nice to be good for something for a change.”

  “I need you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “And I will be right here, holding your hand, for as long as you need me.”

  “There’s something I want to tell you,” Chas said.

  “Okay.” He leaned forward and kissed her hand.

  “The night before Granny died . . . when I think about it now, it was like . . . she knew she was going. When I tucked her into bed, she said there was something important she needed to tell me. The more I think about it, the more important I think it must be.”

  “Why?”

  “It was about you.”

  “Did she tell you to steer clear of me, that I was no good for you?”

  Chas wasn’t affected by his attempt at humor, even if he had been at least partially serious. “No, quite the opposite, in fact.” She took a deep breath. “She told me that you love me.” Jackson raised his brows but didn’t comment. “Of course I already knew that. But I never told her that it had been spoken between us. And I have to know if you told her.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “We talked a little about you, but it was never about our relationship.”

  “She said she had seen it in your eyes the first time you walked into her room.”

  Chas checked his expression for a reaction but found him more unreadable than usual. She hurried to get to the point. “I just wanted you to know what she said, and I need to tell you what else she said . . . about me. I just have to say it.”

  “I’m listening,” he said when she didn’t say anything at all.

  “She told me not to . . . close my heart . . . because I might be afraid of getting hurt again. She made me promise. I did promise. What else could I say? I’ve wondered how exactly to go about keeping my promise, and I’ve realized that I can’t do it alone. So, I want you to know that whether anything permanent comes of this or not, I want to learn how to open my heart. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I’m trying to say that . . . you told me a long time ago that I was afraid to feel. I’m telling you that you were right; you were both right. Maybe that’s why you came here . . . to teach me to open my heart again.”

  Jackson studied her eyes for a long moment, then said, “I don’t think I could ever teach you a tenth of what you’ve taught me, Chas. I will never be the same . . . whatever happens. And for the record, I’ve seen your heart open a great deal since I said that. I recognize the signs, because I’ve felt the same thing happening to me. I do love you. Don’t ever forget it.”

  “I love you too,” she said, but she still had to wonder if her opening heart might be broken when their lives took separate paths.

  After a minute he said, “Granny was a shrewd old woman.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Chas said.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “She knew. She knew even before I knew.”

  “Knew what?” she asked, if only to hear him say it.

  “From that very first day, I just wanted to be in the same room with you. And she could see it. She knew that I was falling in love with you.” He laughed softly and added, “I wonder what else she knew that she didn’t tell us. Maybe she could have foreseen our future if we had bothered to ask.”

  “She did mention something about that.”

  “Really?”

  “She told me that geographical differences could be worked out, that they weren’t so important in the grand scheme of things. She reminded me that I would have followed Martin anywhere, and she asked me if I would give up the love of a good man for an old house.”

  Jackson let that sink in for a minute. “I could never ask that of you,” he insisted. “This is more than an old house. It would break my heart to see you leave all of this behind. I could never live with it.”

  “But you have the work you love somewhere else; it’s your life.”

  “It’s temporary, Chas.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. But neither of us knows at this point whether or not being together permanently is right. And neither of us should be worried about such things under the present circumstances. Let’s just get through the funeral and take it from there, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said and sat up to drink her cocoa, terrified that once the funeral was over he would be gone and she would be left to face the holidays without her Granny. The thought seemed too much to bear.

  * * * * *

  The night before the funeral, Jackson found Chas sitting in her gr
andmother’s chair, wrapped in one of the little blankets that Granny had often had over her lap. He pulled a chair close to her and took her hand.

  “I know you’ve heard it a hundred times,” she said, “but I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought she would get sick, or something. I thought I would have some warning that it was coming. I’m glad she didn’t get sick. It’s how every person wants to go, right? Just go to sleep and wake up on the other side? I’m glad for her. I just feel so . . . unprepared.”

  “Your feelings are completely understandable, Chas, and you can repeat them to me as many times as you need to.”

  She looked at him and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what I would have ever done without you. I’ve thanked God over and over for sending you here . . . now. I didn’t know it was her time to go, but God did, and He sent you to help me through.”

  “Funny, I was certain he sent me here so that you could help me through.”

  “It’s been eventful for both of us.”

  “Yes, it has,” he said and kissed her hand.

  Jackson watched her eyes take on the distant expression that had become typical in the days since Granny had left them. They had talked and cried together many times in between all of the preparations that had to be dealt with. But occasionally she just zoned out, and he allowed her the silence to try to accept this altered reality. He knew the feeling well, even if for him it had been less personal; more traumatic perhaps, but less personal.

  When the silence dragged on longer than usual, he felt compelled to tell her something that he’d been meaning to for a couple of days, but the moment had never seemed right. Without preamble he said, “I’m staying for Christmas.” She turned toward him, her eyes showing surprise, then relief, then tears. “If that’s all right with you.” She threw her arms around him and cried.

  Chas knew her tears in that moment were more from relief than sorrow. When she had calmed down, she looked at Jackson and said, “I just didn’t know how I could face Christmas without her when there’s so little time to get used to having her gone. Now I think I can actually look forward to it, instead of dreading it.”

  “Me too,” he said.

  “But I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t want you to stay because you feel sorry for me, or—”

  “I’m staying because I want to be here—and because I know you need me. But it’s nice to feel needed.” His voice turned facetious. “And since you invited me to Thanksgiving dinner out of pity, I can stay for Christmas for the same reason. Even if that’s just a tiny bit of the reason.”

  “I don’t care why you stay, just as long as you’re here.”

  She kissed him and he said, “You’re going to be okay, Chas. I know you miss her, and you’ll probably never stop missing her. But you’re strong, and you’re going to spend your life in this home she left for you, honoring her legacy.” She nodded, and he kissed her again.

  Jackson saw her zone out again and looked for something to say to distract her from her grief. “You know,” he said with some degree of exasperation, “the awkward thing about spending Christmas in someone else’s home is that they think they have to buy you gifts, and you wonder if you should buy them gifts. And nobody knows what to get, or how much to spend, and everybody’s worried and it’s just . . . awkward. So, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stay for Christmas if we can just . . . enjoy the holiday and forget the gifts. Although . . .”

  “You’re reneging before you’ve even made the deal.”

  He chuckled. “So I am. You’re as shrewd as your grandmother. I really would like to get you a gift. I just don’t know what to get. But I don’t want you to get me a gift, because just being here with you is gift enough.”

  “Oh, no, you can’t do that. Fair is fair. Let’s just . . . set some rules.”

  “Rules?”

  “Yeah. One gift. Ten-dollar limit.”

  “Deal,” he said, liking that idea thoroughly and immediately.

  “That way it has to be either sentimental or silly, and either way it works.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  The following morning they had breakfast as usual, except that Polly cooked it, and Chas was so somber that she didn’t say much. After they’d eaten they each went to their rooms to change their clothes. Jackson waited in the parlor for Chas, and looked up from his paper to see her dressed in black, looking beautiful and elegant—and very sad.

  “You look great,” he said and stood, “but you told me it wasn’t a requirement to wear black to Mormon funerals.”

  “It’s not. It just . . . seemed like the right thing to wear.”

  “I would agree.” He took her hands and kissed her. “You’re beautiful.” She tried to smile. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Considering what day it is, I’m holding it together. Just hold my hand and help me through this day. I can fall apart later.”

  “An excellent plan,” he said, and they left for the church where the funeral would be held.

  Jackson was intrigued by the differences in a Mormon funeral compared to any he’d ever been to. He’d taken keen notice of all the people from Chas’s church who had been in and out of the house the last few days, bringing food and flowers and compassion. People had come to help with the funeral plans, and simply to check on her and see how she was doing. And Jackson had been impressed. Now, sitting through the service, he couldn’t recall a funeral ever having such a positive mood to it. More than grief and heartache, he heard hope and peace. It was more a celebration of this woman’s life, as opposed to sorrow over her death. Of course, it was mentioned more than once that she would be missed, and the difficulty was for those left behind. It was mentioned by Bishop Wegg that the woman they were honoring had not been a member of the church he represented, but that her granddaughter, who was, had requested he take charge of the funeral, and he considered it an honor. It was obvious he’d met Granny on more than a few occasions and knew her well. His tribute to her was touching.

  At the cemetery it started to snow just as soon as the prayer spoken there was finished. Jackson stood with his arm around Chas next to the casket, holding an umbrella over them. Everyone else left, but she just stood there, and he was more than willing to stay there with her for as long as she needed. She finally blew out a long sigh, touched the casket, then headed toward the car, leaning into him while he kept his arm around her.

  “I miss her so much,” she said in the car.

  “I know. It’s going to be a tough adjustment, especially since you’ve been taking care of her. I worry about you. You’ve got to find something to fill in the hours you used to spend helping her, or you’re going to get depressed.”

  “You’re an expert?” she asked.

  “No, just an observer of human nature. You’re entitled to grieve and to miss her, but if what they said at the funeral today is true, you should be able to go forward with faith, find peace over this, and be happy, because you know that’s what she would want.”

  Chas took his hand. “Listen to you telling me to have faith.”

  “Hey, I’ve learned a lot from you and Granny.” He kissed her hand, then drove in silence back to the church building where a luncheon was being provided by the women of the Church. But Chas didn’t want to stay long. She told him she was tired of hearing condolences—and just plain tired.

  Once they’d eaten and exchanged brief words with a few people, especially appreciation to the bishop and the ladies who had put on the luncheon, they were on their way home. Back at the inn, Chas said she was going to change her clothes and check on the work Polly was doing. But Jackson went to the office to talk to Polly long enough to be able to assure Chas that it was all under control. Then he found her in Granny’s room, her shoes on the floor, still wearing the same clothes, curled almost into the fetal position on the bed, holding her grandmother’s pillow. Jackson sat down and told her, “I’ve talked to Polly. Everything is under control and it will be until you feel ready
to get back to work; however long it takes, she said.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t want to deal with it.”

  “I know, but you would have if you’d had to.”

  “I’m glad I don’t have to.”

  “Do you want to be alone?”

  “No.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “No,” she repeated, so he just sat there in silence for more than an hour, while Chas stared at the wall and didn’t make a sound. She finally closed her eyes, and when he knew she was asleep, he covered her with one of Granny’s blankets and went to change his clothes and take care of a few things that might help ease Polly’s responsibilities. He was back in the chair when Chas woke up. She reached out a hand when she saw him. He took it and kissed it and reminded her of how strong she was, and that they were going to get through this together.

  “I like that together part,” she said and actually smiled.

  The next morning Chas and Jackson were eating breakfast when Polly sat down at their table and said, “I don’t want to stress you out, Chas, and I’m willing to do whatever you need me to do, but I have to remind you that the open house is the day after tomorrow.”

  “Oh, good heavens!” Chas said and hit herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “I think it’s reasonable that you forgot,” Polly said. “And I can take care of most of it. But other than what you asked Charlotte to do, the plans are in your head, so I need to know what you’ve got.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Chas said. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “We got that already,” Polly said, completely calm. “It’ll be fine. Just tell me what you need me to do. Jen will help, and so will Michelle.” Jackson knew these girls were the maids who cleaned the rooms, but they were competent and hard working, and Jen had helped cover other things here and there many times. “Charlotte will help as well. If we can just sit down and go over some details, we’ll be set.”