New Additions (By Design Book 5)

by J. A. Armstrong

“Why?”

  Jameson struggled to find the right answer. “Well, because Mommy needs her mommy right now.”

  “Why Nana?”

  “Because your Nana is Mommy’s mommy,” Jameson tried to explain.

  “Mommy has a boo boo too?” he asked.

  Candace and Jameson had told Spencer that his Mommy needed to be with his daddy because his daddy had a boo boo. They tried to prepare Spencer, explained that his daddy needed to have some bandages, and a lot of sleep to feel better.

  Jameson considered how to answer Spencer. “Kind of,” she said. “You know when you have a bad dream and you come into bed with Nana and me? So you can feel safe, right?” Jameson asked. Spencer nodded. “Well, that’s why Nana is with Mommy.”

  “Mommy’s scared?” Spencer asked. Jameson just smiled. “S’okay, Nana will kiss it better,” he said. Jameson nodded. “Jay Jay, you scared?” he asked Jameson.

  Jameson choked back the tears she felt forming in her eyes. She was afraid—terrified, in fact. Terrified for Rick. Worried about Marianne. Afraid that she might fail somehow in her caring for Spencer and Maddie. Concerned about Candace. There were so many questions in Jameson’s mind that she could barely make sense of them. She was determined to keep that knowledge private. Spencer, however, was a perceptive little boy. He spent long hours with his nana and his Jay Jay. Try as she might, there was no fooling the toddler.

  Spencer wrapped his small arms around Jameson’s neck and kissed her cheek. “S’okay, Jay Jay. I kiss it better,” he told her.

  Jameson smiled and hugged Spencer close. “Thanks, Spence.”

  “All better?” he asked.

  “All better,” she promised.

  “My Jay Jay,” Spencer said proudly.

  Jameson laughed. Those were the words Candace always used with Spencer after she comforted him. “My Spencer,” Candace would say adoringly. Jameson had never put the pieces together before. Spencer frequently claimed Candace and Jameson as his own. She had always been touched and amused by the pride and affection in his declarations. Suddenly, she understood where he had learned that.

  “Jameson!” Pearl’s voice boomed through the house.

  “What now?” Jameson mumbled.

  “Jonah’s home!”

  ***

  Candace walked into Rick’s hospital room carrying two cups of coffee and two sandwiches. She stopped at watched her eldest child at a distance. Marianne sat holding her husband’s hand. Candace looked at the food in her hands and winced. Her appetite had suddenly vanished. Hospitals were unsettling. They possessed a unique set of smells and sounds that Candace was sure could make the most stoic of people uneasy. She recalled her short recovery after Jonah’s birth. The doctors and nurses had continually encouraged her to rest. Candace mentally chuckled at the thought. How anyone could rest in a hospital completely perplexed her.

  Candace Reid was not accustomed to being at a loss for her words. Her career and her life demanded that she find the appropriate, if not always eloquent, words to address any problem that arose. Now, she found herself at a loss. She had always considered herself someone who could handle the unexpected with grace. This, watching her daughter hold the young man she considered a son’s hand, was beyond her comprehension. Rick was hooked up to a plethora of lines, wires, and monitors. His face was barely visible through the bandage that wrapped his head. His eyes were black and swollen, hiding his handsome features.

  “I can’t do it,” Marianne practically whispered.

  Candace set the food down on the rolling tray and stepped up behind her daughter. She put her hands on Marianne’s shoulders and gripped them gently. “You can.”

  Marianne shook her head. “How can I?”

  Candace closed her eyes. The doctors had visited earlier in the day. Rick’s prognosis was grim at best. The recommendation they gave had stunned Candace. Another twenty-four hours without any improvement would be a strong indicator that no progress was the likely outcome. She had thought she was prepared for anything. In Candace’s heart, Rick was as much a son to her as any of her three children. She looked upward, imploring an answer from anyone who might be listening, begging for some miracle.

  “Why twenty-four hours?” Marianne’s voice broke through Candace’s private musing. “Why not forty-eight, seventy-two? Why not a month or a year? Who decides how much time is enough time?” Marianne asked. Her disembodied voice sent a shiver up Candace’s spine. “They want me to sign my husband’s death warrant.”

  Candace took a deep breath. “No, honey. You decide what the right time is, if there is one at all,” Candace said.

  Marianne let go of Rick’s hand and covered her eyes. “How do I know? What do I tell Spencer?”

  Candace felt as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs in an instant. She was supposed to have an answer—wasn’t she? What answer was there? She couldn’t begin to explain this situation. It seemed completely senseless. How do you tell a little boy that his daddy is dead? Vacant. Candace’s thoughts went dark momentarily. She was angrier than she could ever recall.

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said gently.

  Marianne picked up her head and looked back at Rick for a moment. She shook her head and stood abruptly. “We’re standing on it, Mom.”

  Candace took Marianne’s hand and offered her a sad smile. She inhaled a deep breath and nodded. “Then we cross it, one step at a time—together.”

  Chapter Three

  Michelle rubbed her face vigorously with her hands. “This fucking sucks.”

  Melanie looked at Jameson helplessly. Jameson had the unpleasant task of delivering the worst news imaginable to the family. Candace had called earlier in the day. Jameson still had not processed their conversation. She was torn. She was angry. She was worried. She needed to take care of the family in Candace’s absence. Dana would handle the campaign message, the family’s statement, and the inevitable questions that would follow. Jameson had been inclined to grab her jacket and book herself on the next flight to Austin. She could hear the hollowness in Candace’s voice. Jameson desperately wanted to hold her wife. Candace needed something else from Jameson now. She needed Jameson to lead the family. Jameson replayed their conversation as she searched for the right words to comfort Michelle and Jonah.

  “Candace?”

  “It’s not good news,” Candace said.

  “It can take…”

  “Time isn’t in the equation,” Candace said. “He essentially has no brain function, Jameson.”

  “What does that mean?” Jameson asked. Nothing seemed to be registering.

  “It means that the machines are what are keeping him alive,” Candace said. Jameson found herself at a complete loss. “Jameson? Are you there?”

  “I’m here. What do you need me to do?” Jameson asked.

  “Marianne has decided to wait until tomorrow when Rick’s brother can be here.”

  “Do you want me to bring the kids?”

  Candace sighed. “No. She doesn’t want Spencer to remember Rick like this. It’s not…”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll call Jonah and…”

  “I’ll tell them,” Jameson offered.

  “Jameson, I can’t ask you to…”

  “Yes, you can. But, you don’t have to. You take care of Marianne. I will handle things here. I promised you that I would when you left,” Jameson said.

  “What about you?” Candace asked. “Who is taking care of you?”

  “I’m all right,” Jameson promised.

  “The kids?”

  “Minus Spencer trying to hide in the China cabinet, all is well,” Jameson said.

  Candace laughed earnestly. “He did not.”

  “Yeah, he did. I think he thought if he hid you would somehow magically appear and find him,” Jameson said.

  “I miss you,” Candace said.

  Jameson swallowed the lump in her throat. “I miss you too.”

  �
��Are you sure…”

  “I’ll call you after I talk to them,” Jameson promised.

  Jameson looked at Michelle. “It totally sucks,” she said. Michelle picked up her head and looked at Jameson in astonishment. “What?” Jameson asked. “I think that about covers it. It sucks.”

  Jonah chuckled in spite of the situation. “How was Mom?” he asked Jameson.

  “Tired,” Jameson answered honestly.

  “Are you leaving?” Michelle asked.

  Jameson shook her head. “No.”

  Jonah watched a painful expression cross Jameson’s features. “J.D….”

  “Your mom needs to be there and I need to be here.”

  “That’s not fair,” Jonah grumbled.

  “Life’s not fucking fair,” Michelle said angrily. Melanie tried to reach out to her and Michelle pulled away violently, fleeing the room. Melanie’s eyes watered and she hung her head.

  “Shell!” Jonah called after his sister.

  “Let her go,” Jameson said. She looked at Melanie. “It’s not you,” she said. Melanie just shook her head. Jameson made her way across the room and touched Melanie’s shoulder. “Mel,” she said softly. “She’s…”

  “Acting like a selfish two-year-old,” Jonah said in disgust.

  Jameson captured Jonah’s gaze harshly. “Maybe. We all deal with things differently, Jonah. All of us,” she said. “My mom and Pearl will be back with the kids soon. I trust you can handle that,” she said to Jonah.

  “We’ve got it covered,” Laura answered for him. Jameson nodded her thanks and began to make her way out of the room.

  “Where are you going?” Melanie asked.

  “To have a conversation with my step-daughter,” Jameson said.

  ***

  Candace closed the door of the bathroom stall and leaned heavily against it. Just a moment, she just needed a moment. Perhaps a moment of silence would recharge her. She closed her eyes and attempted to will her emotions into submission. She did not have the luxury of her grief right now. Candace placed her fingers over her eyes and massaged her brow. Not now, she could not lose control now. Tomorrow. If all went as expected, she would be in Jameson’s arms the next day. Maybe then, maybe she could allow herself the luxury of tears. Not now. Now, she needed to be Candace Reid, strong senator, supportive mother, controlled woman. That was her role. Candace took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Jameson, how can I do this?” she wondered aloud. A slight smile painted her lips as she imagined Jameson’s answer:

  “I’m right here.”

  ***

  “You here to tell me what a jerk I am?” Michelle asked without turning to face Jameson.

  “No.”

  “So? Say what you have to say,” Michelle spat.

  “I’m sorry,” Jameson said compassionately. Michelle turned in surprise. Jameson smiled. “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Shell. I’m sorry for Marianne and Spencer and Maddie. I’m sorry for your mom, for Pearl, for Jonah. I am sorry for all of you. I wish I could take it away for all of you,” she said honestly.

  A tear rolled over Michelle’s cheek. “Why?” she asked.

  Jameson shook her head. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No,” Jameson agreed.

  Jameson took a step toward Michelle and Michelle collapsed into her. Jameson chose her words carefully. She had noticed over the last few months that as Melanie and Michelle’s relationship progressed, Michelle began to balk slightly. She wasn’t positive what all the specifics were that were causing Michelle’s actions. She did understand that the root of it was fear. And, Jameson had little doubt that Michelle was completely in love with Melanie. Fear could make people become self-destructive without even realizing it. Jameson knew that reality firsthand.

  “Shell,” Jameson began quietly. Michelle pulled back slightly. “I will tell you what I do know,” Jameson said. Michelle looked at Jameson curiously. Jameson expelled a heavy breath and continued. “Life is unpredictable,” she said. Michelle listened silently. “You really have no idea what waits on the other side of any minute. Don’t waste them.”

  “What does that mean?” Michelle asked.

  “It means that you can be as pissed off and as upset as you want. It means that you can be scared shitless. Don’t push away the one person you need the most because of it,” Jameson told her. Michelle groaned. “Shell, you can take my advice or not. I’m not lecturing you. I’m telling you the truth. You will regret that one day.”

  “I’m not,” Michelle began to argue. Jameson smiled. “Fuck,” Michelle sighed. “I don’t know how to do this,” Michelle said softly.

  “Which this are we talking about?” Jameson asked. Michelle’s face went pale and Jameson nodded. “There’s no handbook, Shell—not to grieving and not to loving either.”

  “You’ve been spending too much time with my mom,” Michelle said. “You’re starting to sound old.”

  Jameson snickered. “Your mom’s taught me a lot,” she told Michelle.

  Michelle’s eyes twinkled. “Must be all that Bible study she’s got you doing.”

  “Maybe,” Jameson replied. Michelle sighed heavily. “Let her love you, Shell,” Jameson gently suggested.

  Michelle closed her eyes and shook her head. Her attempt to redirect the conversation had clearly failed. “J.D., I….”

  “You don’t need to explain anything to me,” Jameson said. “One thing I do know, you keep pushing her away and one day she’ll do exactly what you’re so afraid of.” Michelle’s gaze narrowed in questioning. “She’ll give you your way and walk away,” Jameson clarified. She watched as Michelle covered her eyes and shook her head repeatedly. Jameson pulled Michelle close again. “I love you, Shell.”

  Michelle chuckled through tears. “So? Quit being an asshole, huh?” Michelle asked.

  “Something like that,” Jameson answered. She stepped back from Michelle and smiled.

  “You’ve gotten pretty good at this, you know?” Michelle said.

  “What’s that?” Jameson wondered.

  “The mom thing,” Michelle said.

  “Bite your tongue—hard,” Jameson returned.

  Michelle laughed. “I’ll try.”

  “Biting your tongue?” Jameson deadpanned.

  “Funny. Not being such an asshole,” Michelle replied.

  “Start with biting your tongue,” Jameson suggested. Michelle picked up a dishtowel and threw it at Jameson. “Like mother, like daughter,” Jameson mumbled.

  Michelle started to follow Jameson from the room. “Nah. I have better things to do than study the Bible nightly.”

  “Oh, God,” Jameson grumbled.

  “Now, where have I heard that before,” Michelle quipped. Jameson groaned. Michelle grabbed Jameson’s hand and stopped her. “Thanks, J.D.,” she said. Jameson was puzzled. “You know what for,” Michelle said.

  Jameson smiled knowingly. Emotionally charged conversations were not the norm between the pair. It was out of both of their comfort zones. “You’ll get my bill,” Jameson said with a wink.

  ***

  Jameson felt Candace crawl into the bed behind her. It had been a long day that had been fraught with the rawest of emotions. They had barely found a moment to say hello before Candace had been consumed by her children and grandchildren. Marianne had been far more composed than Jameson had expected. She imagined that Marianne’s emotional stoicism was the result of shock and fatigue. Jameson had been pleased when Candace had called to let her know that the kids’ father had offered to stay behind in Austin. He would take care of the necessary arrangements to get Rick home to New York. Those had been Candace’s exact words. It made it sound as if Rick would walk through the front door the next day and greet them all with his customary bear hugs. That would never come to pass, and that was unfathomable to Jameson. She felt Candace kiss her back gently and turned over to face her wife.

  Candace immediately cupped Jame
son’s face in her hands. Without words, she brought their lips together. She could not recall a time when she had needed to feel Jameson closer than she did right now. Jameson answered Candace’s request tenderly.

  “Candace,” Jameson halted their mutual exploration in concern.

  Candace smiled and stroked Jameson’s cheek. “I need you, Jameson,” she confessed. Jameson looked at her wife compassionately. Candace sensed Jameson’s hesitancy. “I need to feel you, Jameson. I need to feel alive.”

  Jameson wiped away a single tear that had slipped from the corner of Candace’s eye. She slowly brushed her lips over Candace’s and waited for Candace to invite her in. Gently, their kiss swirled into an expression of understanding and comfort. Desire sparked. Desire spiraled and danced away with reason. Reason had no place between them. Candace had searched her heart for reasons continuously the last few days and had come up empty. Grief, like love knew no reason—neither required justification and both defied description. Acceptance washed over Candace as Jameson’s touch tenderly conveyed commitment, understanding, and connection. Every search seemed to end here. It ended in Jameson’s arms. Questions were quelled by Jameson’s touch and fear was silenced in her embrace.

  “Jameson,” Candace whispered desperately.

  Jameson lifted her body to hover above Candace’s. She smiled down at Candace and covered Candace’s lips with her fingertips to silence her. Jameson kissed Candace unhurriedly. She traced over Candace’s lips lightly with her tongue before allowing her lips to descend over Candace’s throat. Jameson left no expanse of skin untouched as her hands searched and explored the curves of Candace’s hips. She felt Candace’s hands gripping her shoulders tightly, holding on is if Candace were seeking an anchor even as she begged Jameson to carry her away.

  Briefly, Jameson glanced upward to capture Candace’s gaze. With a reassuring smile, Jameson lowered her lips and teased Candace’s nipple. She heard Candace gasp in response and lifted her hand to lightly brush over the swell of Candace’s breast. Candace’s hands held Jameson’s head in place as an unspoken request for Jameson to linger. Jameson instinctively understood Candace’s subtle cues. She had learned to follow the rhythm of Candace’s body which always moved in time with the emotions that swelled within them both. The slightest arch of Candace’s back, the subtlest sway of her hips, and the nearly imperceptible whimpers that sometimes emanated from her, each spoke as clearly as any worded request could to Jameson. Jameson’s touch drifted lower in response as her kiss lifted upward again.