by HJ Bellus
Whit claps her hands together, bringing my attention back to her. Her eyes light up, and every single tiny tooth in her mouth dazzles.
“Momma and Daddy!” she squeals in a high-pitched voice.
We don’t have a chance to react before she bounces up the bottom two steps and collides into our legs. Jules and I stare at each other, both at a loss for words.
“Thank you,” I whisper. The only two words that are worthy of speaking.
A genuine smile plays across Jules’ lips. Whirlwind Whit manages to break between the two of us, grabbing each of our hands until she’s the one holding us, the link bonding us together forever. The one that will never be shattered. My ugly past and poor choices threaten to taint the moment. I don’t let them. I could beat myself up for the rest of my life and not enjoy the tomorrows. It’s impossible to fall in that cycle with my sweet little girl beaming up at me.
“Daddy, you look sexy,” Whit says, finishing with a giggle.
Jules gasps, and Jane stifles her giggles.
I clear my throat and swing our linked hands. “Well, thank you.”
“Nana said so, and she also said you’re working damn hard to get back in Momma’s—”
“Whit!” Jane exclaims. “We need to put the chickens up before we go.”
I shake my head. This might be the first time I’ve ever seen Jane flushed with embarrassment. Whit bounds over to her, and she ushers her right out the door. As soon as the screen door slams shut, my spine stiffens. This is all happening way too fast and just when I talked Jules off a cliff. I have no idea how she’ll respond to the comment. Thing is, Jane hit the nail on the head. I’m fighting for my girl.
Jules takes three steps back from me. Her expression is unreadable.
“Baby, friends, remember.”
She shakes her head, causing her brown curls to tumble and toss over her shoulders.
Chapter 10
Jules
It’s all too much—this crazy, insane rollercoaster ride that never ends, sending my guts and brain sailing in different directions. It’s enough, and I burst wide open. It’s not tears this time. No, it’s the complete opposite. Seeing my little Whit about to say Jessie was trying too damn hard to get in my pants was the final hit to the tender thread of sanity holding me together.
I throw my head back with the first bark of deep laughter escaping me. Soon tears stream down my face, my belly begins to cramp in giggle pains, and it doesn’t stop for long moments. Jessie’s hands land on top of my shoulders. When I glance up to the concerned look on his face, I fall even deeper into my crazed outburst.
He pulls me to his chest. His vibrations of laughter ricochet into my skin and soul. God, I need to push this man away. I should for my sanity and the sole purpose of surviving. The harsh truth is I can’t because he’ll always be a part of my life. I can’t block him out because of Whit. Reality brought me here, and it’s something I can never escape. I can only pray for my heart.
“You better now?” Jessie mumbles down into the top of my head.
The laughter has subsided, and I have no other option than to melt into his body. I nod against his chest, my arms wrapping around his middle and holding on for security. I may hate the man or, hell, have hated him, but right now he’s my security and temple of stability.
Jessie silently steps back, grabs my hand, and leads me out the front door. He never lets go of my hand, not even on the ride to the cemetery, not even when Whit insists on sitting on his lap in the backseat of the funeral home’s limo. I didn’t even have the energy to require she be buckled in. The short half-mile drive didn’t last long. Jessie’s hand never leaves mine as we exit the car.
For that, I am thankful since all the prying stares are aimed directly at my little girl and me. Whit squeezes my other hand, and with the two of them, I hold my head high, following Nana to the front row. All the faces blur into one dark cloud. Whit’s constant fidgeting keeps me grounded just enough to avoid another complete freak-out.
She sits on Jessie’s lap right next to me, flipping the hem of my black dress up and down. Any other day, I’d lose my shit on her, but not today. It is soothing and the perfect sense of calm I need.
Nana is a perfect picture of bravery. Her shoulders never quake throughout the ceremony nor does she flinch when the gunshots fire off into the sky in honor of Papa’s military service. Between her stoic behavior and Whit wiggling next to me, I’m able to keep it all together. We shake hands and share hugs with all the people who came out today. I couldn’t tell you who I saw or didn’t see. I didn’t miss the sideways glances Jessie sent nosy folks, warning them to stay clear of me today.
Then I see her. Her face is the only one that’s vibrant and clear as day—Shayna. She glides right up to Nana, insincere and as fake as the day she was born. I try my best not to look at her dazzling designer high heels and skimpy-ass dress. I’m sure it came from some famous and overpriced designer. I smooth my palms down the black dress from Walmart and do my best to ignore all of my former insecurities. They have the power to chop me down right in front of everyone. Jessie being Whit’s dad would be yesterday’s news in this small town. The coffee talk at Gravy Dave’s would be quite the event.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she coos, wrapping her arms around Nana.
She offers me a sideways glance, but my body language does nothing to offer my openness. It only lasts for a few seconds since her stare goes right to Jessie. I can’t miss what she wanted or thought she had. He was clear as day about all of it. Still doesn’t make it an easy pill to swallow. She had loved him, or thought she had. Cody stopped by the other day, filling me in on all of it. Damn little town gossip knew it all. Shayna wanted the prestige of being on his arm, and that’s where their story ended. Doesn’t make it any better knowing Jessie was in a relationship with her and possibly damn close to proposing. He chose to settle, and that’s just another shard of glass to my torn and battered heart.
“Daddy!” Whit tugs on Jessie’s dress shirt while bouncing up and down. “Daddy!”
Jessie doesn’t give two shits Shayna is standing before him. He glances down, giving our daughter his complete attention. When his muscular back and broad shoulders bend down to get on her level, something inside of me tears open raw wounds. It’s a picture I’ve wanted to see for years.
Whit does her best to whisper even though it comes out as a shout. “I have to pee, like now.”
Jessie whips his head up to me with a hundred questions plastered across his face. It may not be appropriate, but a playful smirk covers my face. Even through the deep canals of sorrow, the image before me is too damn adorable. I give him a nod of my head. It jerks him into action as he stands to his feet and ushers her away.
Shayna’s stomping and huffing brings me back to the present. I’ve always heard about steam billowing out of someone’s ears, and Jesus, I can see it right before my eyes. Shayna has swarms of hornets flowing out of her ears. Even her couture makeup can’t cover her anger. I give her a nod and go to the next guest greeting Nana. The process repeats itself. When I realize Jessie and Whit haven’t returned in a few minutes, I escape the greeting line. A part of me feels like shit while the other half doesn’t. Because it’s what being a mom is.
It doesn’t take me long to track Whit’s squeals and Jessie’s barks. I round the last row of headstones and waltz behind the line of fir trees to see Whit, who has her dress up around her chest and Jessie covering his eyes.
“Dad, I can’t pee on my dress. Are you serious there’s no bathroom out here?”
“Baby girl, there’s no bathroom. You have to pee on the ground.” Jessie shrugs in his dress shirt, keeping his eyes masked.
“Dad, I might pee on my dress.” Whit lowers her head, trying to figure out how this is all going to work. Growing up in the city hasn’t gifted her with many opportunities to pee outside.
I shrink behind the lush branches of the fir tree, enjoying the scene before me. Jessie tilts h
is face to the heavens with his hand still covering his eyes.
“Daddy, I’m about to have an accident. I’ve never had one.” Whit’s voice trembles and shakes. A true sign of impending tears to come.
Jessie picks up on it too, jumping into action. His hand drops from his eyes, and he’s at her side. It takes all of my God-given willpower to remain in place.
“I’m going to hold your dress, okay, baby? You just squat and do your business. I’ll be looking at the clouds.” Jessie curls the fluff of Whit’s black dress and looks back to the heavens.
All of the worries of the world float away watching the scene before me. It’s a picture-perfect scenario, not one even the most talented artist could swipe across a canvas. This is life. The hatred I’ve kept harbored down in my belly doesn’t matter; none of that poison matters watching the two of them. It’s picture perfect.
“I didn’t pee on my dress.” Whit bounces up, nearly knocking Jessie in the bridge of his nose. He’s faster than her. I don’t miss the fact he grimaces and grabs for his injured knee.
“I did it, Daddy.” Whit continues to clap.
Jessie doesn’t celebrate until her little dress is put back in place entirely. Once all the tender material tumbles into place, he holds out his arms. Whit doesn’t think twice before bounding into his chest. It’s my final undoing. My knees go weak, and my heart hammers against my sternum. It’s all surreal and life changing. Some things you can never process—like the scene that lies before me.
“Whit, we have a fan.” Jess’s gruff and timber voice echoes across the trees, and before I know it, he’s rounding the brush with Whit in his arms.
“Mom, that was wild.” Whit brushes her bangs from her face. “I did it. Only little bits of pees went up on my calves.”
I cringe internally, knowing all too well what it’s like to pee outside and the inevitable splashes that splat on your legs. Whit’s toothy smile is contagious. I find myself mirroring hers. Once Jessie is right next to me, I lean in and kiss Whit’s cheek then glance up to the heavens.
Whit’s Papa would be smiling from ear to ear. He loved the country life. It bled in his heart and soul. He wanted nothing more than for me to take over the farm. I’ll never forget the grumbling coming from him about Whit being raised in a city.
“This damn townhouse and taxis are no place for a damn young soul to thrive. Come home, Jules.”
Hearing his words tickle my ears doesn’t bring tears to my eyes but a smile gracing my lips. It’s perfection. Even though he’s gone and the whole town will soon be analyzing my life choices and daughter with a magnifying glass, none of it bothers me a bit. The only thing that matters is the scene before me. I’ve been reborn in the worst of circumstances.
“Papa would be so proud,” I whisper in her ear.
Whit’s smile shines broader at the same time Jessie laces his hand in mine. He doesn’t have to say a word before he leads us back to the crowd of people. My two rocks stand beside me while the rest of our family friends say their piece. Whit leaps and jumps in Jessie’s lap on the ride back to the ranch.
She plays up the theme of being in the limo by fluttering in Jessie’s lap and pretending to sip out of a plastic champagne glass. I don’t even have any damn idea why we are in a limo. It’s the perfect distraction for all of us. Even Nana clutches her belly as laughter attacks her.
The barn is full of familiar faces. The old equipment has been moved out, and the space is now lined with tables, chairs, and food.
“How?” The one word escapes my lips
Jessie clutches my hand. “Knew your papa would want all of his family and friends celebrating here.”
“You did this?” It comes out as a question even though it’s an answer. “When?”
“Doesn’t matter. He deserves it.” Jessie kisses Whit’s cheek while guiding us into the barn.
It’s a swarm of chaos with familiar faces, all sincere and caring. I’m no fool and damn well know there are curious stares and judging eyes.
“Daddy, I’m hungry.” Whit points to the long line of food.
The poor girl has no idea that some of those casseroles look amazing and taste like shit. Jessie doesn’t miss a beat, striding right over to the long tables of food. He places her down on her feet, grabbing a plate for her and himself. He tucks the napkins and plastic silverware in his back pocket. Whit points at the green salad, making me internally grin. Then she’s off to the cheese-soaked casseroles. Jessie does his best scooping up food for himself as she continues down the table.
Old Man Jenkin, who owns the local hardware store, stops Jessie. It’s clear Jenkin is well into the conversation while Jessie keeps an eye on Whit, doing his best to keep up with the conversation.
I ignore all the chatter surrounding me and only nod when I hear certain words. Whit has all of my attention with Jessie in second place. The guy has been thrust into fatherhood, and by damn, like anything else, he’s a natural.
“Is that girl normal?” Jenkin’s voice floats across the barn.
I follow his line of sight to see that Whit has managed to dip her fingertips in black olives. She’s waggling them in front of her face, popping one in her mouth and then dipping her finger right back in the bowl to snag more. She tosses a few raw onion rings on her plate along with slivered dill pickles. Yeah, those are the only things she’ll be devouring and sneaking back up to the table for more. I buy onions and dill pickles in stock back at home.
Home. The thought shatters me. I am home. I’m thinking about California. My phone dings in my clutch, and I pull it out. It’s my publisher, reminding me of the tight deadline I’m on for my second round of edits. It’s not an option but rather a do-or-die type scenario.
Jessie’s shoulders tighten and bristle up at Old Man Jenkin. “She’s just fine. Worry about your own damn business.”
And with that, Jessie rushes behind Whit, who bounds to a lonely table. She’s managed to eat five more olives off of her fingers. Tears spill down my cheeks without warning when she dips her dainty fingers on Jessie’s plate, stealing his heap of olives. “Go to them,” Nana whispers in my ear.
I flick my gaze over to her, wiping away the unwanted and stray tears with the back of my hand.
“That’s your future. Go, baby girl.” She urges me on by pushing my hips forward.
I never had a chance of falling out of love with Jessie. So I nod my head and walk right over to my future. I have no idea what that future looks like. I do know Jessie will be a part of it—one way or another.
“Want me to make you a plate, Jules?” Jessie reaches for my hand the moment I’m at the table.
I shake my head. “Not hungry right now.”
Jessie pushes his plate to me when I take the seat on the other side of Whit. “Wasn’t much of Mom’s sausage casserole left. Grabbed as much as I could. You used to love it.”
“It’s yummy, Momma.” Whit scoops a mouthful of the creamy potato sausage mixture in her mouth. Her smile is damn contagious. I can’t help myself from finishing off Jessie’s part of the potatoes.
Chapter 11
Jessie
My spine stiffens when my parents take the seats across from us. I told them about Whit, and to say my mom was crushed and my dad was devastated would be a significant understatement of vast proportions.
The glistening tears brimming in my mom’s wise eyes let me know she’s doing her best to keep her emotions contained. She wants more than anything to scoop Whit up in her arms and shower her in love. I told her today wasn’t the day, and hell, even tomorrow might not be. Whit has enough stuff to process and work through, as does Jules. I’m damn shocked and amazed how well Whit has handled everything so far. She’s a damn tough girl.
“Hi, Carolyn and Tim.” Jules wipes around her mouth with a napkin, offering them both a warm smile.
She used to be like a second daughter to them. I don’t allow myself to creep down that lane of self-loathing and being pissed off at myself. I ruined s
o damn much but now have an opportunity to right all of my wrongs.
“Who are you guys?” Whit points her finger with an olive on the end of it at my parents.
Their eyes grow wide and jaws slack a tick. I lean in on the table and catch Whit’s attention then brush back a lock of her hair.
“Those are my parents.” I keep eye contact, wanting to see her response.
She nods and nibbles on the olive. “Makes sense because you look like your dad, but he’s way older.”
She drags out the word out, causing all of us to erupt in laughter. And just like that, Whit healed the situation, not even knowing she was doing it. I lean down and kiss the top of her head.
“Love you, little girl.”
She nods, focusing on her olives. Mom and Whit fall into easy conversation, even venturing around the barn. Dad has long escaped into conversation about farming and cattle. Jules stays slumped in her seat, not saying a word, taking in the scene in front of her. She never takes her attention off Jane for very long. She didn’t even flinch when I scooted into the chair next to her and laced my fingers with hers.
Our peaceful bliss is interrupted when a high, shrill, piercing cry enters the barn. Jules is up on her feet and racing to the entrance. Most of the people have been long gone; only close family friends linger about. I race past a line of women covering casserole dishes.
Jules’ hair flows behind her as she races over to Whit, who’s on the ground still wailing. My mom is on her knees at her side. The old tire swing blows around next to the scene.
Jules pulls Whit into her, kissing the top of her head and running a hand up and down her back.
“Daddy!” Whit manages to get out between her sobs. She holds her hands up to me.
I bend down and grab her without a second thought. She tucks her wet face in the crook of my neck and wraps her arms around my neck.
“What happened?” I ask, running circles on her back like Jules was doing seconds ago.