“Veese,” Jackson said.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Thank you.”
“You’d do the same for me,” he said and left the room.
Jackson turned his attention back to Chas. She felt the need to say, “I won’t be able to stay long. They said I could only see you for a few minutes, and my flight leaves in a couple of hours. But I figured a short visit was better than no visit at all.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
She whimpered, unable to hold back her emotion. “I thought you were dead . . . or worse.”
“It was worse. I wanted to die. But now . . . now I’m so grateful to be alive.”
“Oh, me too,” she said and couldn’t resist putting her lips to his. “I hope it isn’t catching,” she said, but kissed him again as if it didn’t matter.
“It’s not,” he said and urged her into another kiss. “Oh,” he murmured, “I wish I could get up out of this bed and leave with you now.”
“I wish you could too,” she said. “But it’s okay. When you’re better, I’ll be waiting.”
“Then I’m going to have to hurry and get better,” he said, and she kissed him again. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“I’m better now,” she said. “Not knowing was the worst. I’m just so . . . grateful.”
“You were praying for me,” he said. “I know. I felt it.”
This provoked fresh tears from Chas. “I was praying for you . . . constantly.”
“And you need to know . . . I believe in angels, Chas. I do.”
“What are you saying?”
She saw fresh tears in his eyes. “Granny was with me,” he said in a whisper, and Chas took a sharp breath, marveling at both the concept and his conviction. “I don’t know how I know, but I know. I often felt like I wasn’t alone; there was a comforting presence. But more than once I heard her voice . . . in my mind. I didn’t realize it at the time. It was after I came back that I remembered, and I knew it was her. She called me ‘young man.’” He chuckled, and she could tell it hurt. “No one called me that but her.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She told me to hold on, that there was much to live for.”
Chas laughed through a gentle sob. “She’s right about that.”
Jackson could feel the pain coming on more, taking over, and he felt himself having to choose between being with her and being racked with what he knew would become difficult to bear without drugs. He felt compelled to say what he’d wanted to say a thousand times. “I’m so sorry, Chas,” he said as he became increasingly emotional.
“For what?” she asked, and he was surprised. He felt certain she must have been angry with him all this time.
“You didn’t want me to go back. You had a bad feeling. I should have listened.”
She swallowed carefully. “It’s over now, and you’re going to be okay. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters except that you’re going to get better, and we’re going to be together. Do you hear me?”
He nodded, but had to say, “I’m not the same man, Chas. I feel . . . broken . . . and scared. I don’t know how long it will be before I can even . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said and kissed him again. “I love you. Whatever may have changed, you’re still you . . . and I love you.”
“I love you too, Chas, but . . .”
She put her fingers over his lips. “You’re the man God told me to marry, Jackson. When you’re ready, you know where to find me.”
He nodded, and she could see that he was too emotional to speak. Then an alarm went off in the room and startled her, but he seemed used to it. “What is it?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s nothing.” But she sensed he was holding back. Watching him more closely, she could see that he was in pain and trying to be brave.
The same nurse came into the room, turned off the alarm, and said, “Your blood pressure is up again. It happens every time we let the pain meds wear off.”
“Or maybe it happened because this beautiful woman kissed me,” Jackson said, keeping his eyes connected to Chas’s.
“Now, that’s a much better reason to see it go up. But we still need to get it down.”
Jackson turned to see her putting the medication in his IV, then he turned back to Chas, feeling desperate. “I love you,” he said, not caring that the nurse was still in the room. “I’m so glad you came. Keep praying for me.”
“I will,” she promised, and the nurse slipped out. “Promise me you’ll get better every day.”
“I’m trying. I don’t know how long it will be, but don’t give up on me.”
“Never. As soon as you can call me, you do it.”
“I will,” he said, already feeling the headiness taking over. “You’ll call my mom . . . and Melinda?”
“I will. I talk to them nearly every day.”
He nodded, and his eyes got heavy. Chas wanted to shout at him and tell him to stay with her. Instead she pressed her lips to his and felt him respond before she whispered, “I love you too, Jackson. Don’t forget it. Don’t ever forget it.”
A moment later he was asleep, but Chas remained by his side, crying a steady stream of silent tears while she held tightly to his hand. She was aware of Veese coming back into the room, but he just sat down without comment and started to read the paper. She remained where she was, counting her blessings and praying on Jackson’s behalf until Veese said quietly, “I need to get you back to the airport if you’re going to make that flight.”
“Okay,” she said, wiping her eyes, “thank you.” She stood and bent over Jackson, squeezing his hand while she whispered in his ear that she loved him. She pressed her lips to his and allowed Veese to escort her from the hospital. She took several tissues with her.
During the journey home, Chas pushed away every negative aspect of this situation and focused instead on her gratitude. Jackson was going to be okay. She’d been able to see him. He knew that she loved him, and she knew that he loved her. She felt renewed and filled with hope, and with that she could press forward with great anticipation for the day when they could be together again.
Once she was back at the inn, she updated Polly and the others on what had happened, then she called and talked separately to Melinda and Melva, while they indulged in their recent habit of crying with her over the phone.
Chas went to bed early, exhausted from a long day. She marveled that she had flown to Virginia and back in a matter of hours. She woke the next morning determined to stay busy and not watch the phone—or the calendar. It was several days before Jackson called her. The joy she felt just to hear his voice was indescribable. He told her that they were keeping him awake more, but that was just making him more aware of being miserable. Knowing how sick he’d been helped him understand why he still felt so lousy, but it was discouraging. He was being moved to a different part of the hospital where they would continue to monitor his physical condition closely, but the focus would shift to the therapy for PTSD. And he got emotional when he admitted to how much he knew he needed it.
“I’m a wreck, Chas. I’m having nightmares and panic attacks. I feel like I don’t even know who I am.”
“You need to be patient with yourself,” she said. “And remember that I love you. It will get better with time.” Her words reassured him, but Chas felt discouraged herself, wondering how long it might be.
“I don’t know when I can call you,” he said. “They’ll be keeping very close tabs on me, and the rules are ridiculous. I can only say that I’ll call when I can.”
“I know,” she said. “I understand.”
They shared their good-byes and “I love yous,” then he had to go, and Chas cried for half an hour.
Throughout the next few weeks, Chas got only a few more phone calls, and they were brief. She knew that he was also calling his mother with the sa
me brief reports. She was overjoyed to finally hear him call and say, “I’m home now. I’m officially an outpatient. But I hate being alone.”
Chas already had a premeditated answer. “You should come here, Jackson, no strings attached. Just . . . come. I’ll take care of you. I’ll come and get you if you need me to. I’ve already checked into some things. You can do counseling over the phone with your therapist there, or we can find a good therapist in Butte—or both. We can work on it together.”
“That sounds more wonderful than I could ever tell you, and I think we can work up to that, but I need to be here for a while; I don’t know how long. They’ve still got me in therapy—both kinds. I need time. I can’t even think beyond one day at a time right now. I hope you can understand.”
“Of course,” she said, fighting to keep her emotion silent.
“If everything goes well, I’m hoping to be there for Christmas.” Chas couldn’t speak as joy leapt out of her throat, and she had to put a hand over her mouth to keep from squealing in his ear. “Is that a problem?” She didn’t answer. “Chas, if there’s a reason you don’t want me to come for Christmas, then—”
“No,” she said and sniffled. She laughed, then sobbed, then laughed again. “Nothing could make me happier than to have you here for Christmas.” She sniffled. “Do you really mean it?”
“I really do. We’ll just plan on it, okay? It’ll be just like last year.”
She laughed, feeling the hope surge into her, mingling with precious memories. “Ten-dollar limit?”
“No promises there,” he said. “I think our relationship warrants a little more thought and effort than that for something so wondrous as celebrating Christmas together. It’s not about the money, Chas. I just want to get you something for Christmas this year that will let you know how much you mean to me.”
“Amen,” she said.
The next day she sent him a card, but didn’t expect she’d get one in return for a while. He probably wasn’t up to card shopping. But that was okay. She’d just keep sending them. If nothing else, it was a way to let him know that she loved him and she was there for him.
Through the following week Chas heard from Jackson only once more. He told her that he actually hadn’t been home very much. He’d been spending time at the office, not working but more as therapy in being able to be among people who gave him a comfort zone and helped him merge his pre-trauma life with the present. He’d also been spending time at the homes of some of the same people, and everyone had been very kind. The counseling was still going on every day, but he said it was going well, and that physically he was much better. He would be on some medications for the parasitic problem for a long time, but he was now mostly free of the symptoms. His wounds were healing, and he hadn’t taken anything but Tylenol for the pain in several days. Chas was grateful to hear the report. She just missed him desperately. Then she woke up on a snowy morning and realized what day it was. After a good, long cry it took a great deal of willpower to get out of bed. The Sunday before Thanksgiving.
Chas took care of the usual business and left Polly in charge while she went to church. The snow had stopped, but it was still very cloudy. As she sat through the meeting, she realized she was tired of being there alone, and she missed Jackson desperately, but she focused her mind on prayer, especially gratitude that she was anticipating his arrival for Christmas as opposed to trying to cope with his death, or having to wonder if was dead or alive. It could be so much worse, and she needed to keep perspective.
Chas came home from church, trying to hold on to the peace she’d felt there. Polly reported that all guests had checked out, and no one was coming in the rest of the week. The maids would come the following morning to clean the four rooms that had been used. Chas had known that, but the report was part of the routine.
“I know you know this too,” Polly said, “but I’m having dinner with friends. Why don’t you come with me? You shouldn’t be alone; not today.”
“No, thank you, Polly. I want to be alone. I’ll be all right.”
Polly tried to protest again, but Chas escorted her to her car, noting that the clouds were growing heavier. She wondered when they would let loose again. How could she not think of a year ago today when a horrible storm had escorted Jackson Leeds into her life? She went inside and went into the kitchen where she opened cupboards and the refrigerator multiple times and stared. But nothing inspired her to actually work up enough appetite to motivate her to cook. She ended up just sitting in Granny’s chair, wondering what would become of her now. Jackson was coming for Christmas, but that felt so far away. And that didn’t necessarily mean that he would want to marry her. Or maybe he would want to, but he might still feel like he needed time to make that decision.
When the silence began to eat at her, she grabbed the remote and pushed the buttons, wondering how many times she would watch the same movie that Granny had been in the middle of when she’d died. She nearly threw the remote at the TV screen when it quickly came to the scene where young Martin came home. Then she could have sworn she’d heard something in the house. She pushed Pause and stood up to go and see if someone was at the door. As she came into the hall, she lost her breath and felt light-headed. She had to reach out a hand to take hold of the doorjamb to steady herself. Jackson really had just come through the back door. Unaware of her presence, he set a bag at his feet and hung up his coat and scarf. Taking in his appearance she had more questions than answers, but she couldn’t speak at all.
He took two steps away from the door, then stopped abruptly when he saw her, and he became as frozen as she felt. He looked good, she thought. At this distance she never would have known that anything was any different than it had been the last time he was here. It was a miracle! He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and said, “I don’t have a reservation, but I heard there’s always room at the inn.”
Chas still couldn’t speak, but she had no trouble closing the space between them and wrapping him in her arms. He returned her embrace, and she relished the strength she felt in him. She started to cry and realized he was doing the same. He buried his face in her hair and murmured her name over and over. She put her hands on his face and took a long look at him.
“Oh, you look good!” she said, noting that the physical evidence of his ordeal was minimal. He had a little scar on his cheekbone and one next to his lip. Beyond that he almost looked the same.
“Yeah,” he said, “remarkable, isn’t it. Even the scars aren’t as visible as I thought they would be.” He touched her face as well, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “You look just the same, just as I’ve imagined you all this time.” He kissed her and laughed softly.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said and kissed him again. “It’s really you.” She took a step back and took both his hands into hers. “But what are you doing here?”
“That’s a long story,” he said and scooped her into his arms, walking toward the parlor. “I think we’d better sit down.”
Chas let out a startled laugh, then said, “Apparently you’ve gotten your strength back.”
“Apparently,” he said and sat down, easing her beside him with her legs over his lap. “You see,” he said without any more urging from her, “they told me I’d achieved a big breakthrough, that I was doing well, but I felt depressed, and I had trouble figuring out what to do about it. I went shopping . . . for a card. And then I was sitting in my apartment after I’d gotten the card ready to mail, but I couldn’t find a stamp. And that’s when I looked around and wondered what I was doing there . . . when I could be here. So, I just decided to forego the stamp and bring it myself.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a card in a lavender envelope.
“Ooh,” she said, taking it from him. “Can I open it now?”
“Oh, you have to. It’s a card that must be opened today, which added to my incentive, because mail doesn’t get delivered on Sundays. The only way I could be sure you’d open it today was to bring it my
self.”
Chas pulled the card out of the envelope, so filled with happiness that she wondered how she could hold it all in. On the front, in various fonts and colors, there was a list of events and dates, with the heading at the top, Important Dates in History. On the list was the day man had stepped onto the moon, the days the world wars had ended, the day the Berlin wall had come down, the day the smallpox vaccine had been discovered, and the day the Declaration of Independence had been signed. Inside was printed, And most of all, the day I met you. He’d written in parentheses, The Sunday before Thanksgiving. And printed below that it simply said, Happy Anniversary.
“Wow,” she said, wiping her tears. “How long did you have to look to find that one?”
“A long time.” He chuckled. It was so good to hear him laugh, to have him here, to see him looking so much better. She hugged him tightly.
“It’s perfect. Thank you! And thank you for bringing it yourself. That was very thoughtful!”
“Purely selfish,” he said.
“Is that any indication of how we feel about each other?” she asked. “If it feels selfish to you and so good for me, it must be good, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I agree completely.”
“When did your flight come in?”
“I didn’t fly.”
She leaned back a little to check his expression. “You drove?”
“I did.”
“When did you leave?”
“Three days ago. I made a few stops so I could get my rest. And I did some shopping.”
“So you just . . . got in your car . . . and came?”
“There was a little more to it than that. First I had to officially submit my resignation.” Chas put a hand over her mouth, not wanting to interrupt, but feeling stunned to realize what that meant—or at least what she hoped it meant. “I packed up my clothes and what little I own that has any personal value. If it didn’t fit in the SUV, I left it behind. Veese is going to oversee selling the place, and the stuff. I’m not going back.”
The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel Page 29