Finding Our Way Back (A Well Paired Novel)

by Rice, Marianne

  The unsettling in his stomach wasn’t from the lack of dinner or the earlier conversation with his mother. For years he hadn’t let anything Jenna interfere with his moods or his life.

  The past month had completely flipped his every thought on its axis. Somehow, she infiltrated her way into every day, every thought, every dish he made.

  “On behalf of your class president Elizabeth Perry, we’d like to welcome you to your fifteenth class reunion.” Lindsay continued. “Let’s take a moment of silence to remember Liz.”

  Everyone bowed their heads as did Tristan. When Kev took the mic, he knew his anonymity was over.

  “Fifteen years! Wow! Some of you aged really well. Others, shit. Life’s been rough on you. I mean, Mindy Burns. You had to have put on a solid twenty pounds since graduation.” The crowd laughed and turned to her.

  She’d been a gangly girl in high school, and pregnancy looked good on her. Kev continued to poke fun of the guys who were balding, and he pointed out those who lost a lot of weight.

  “While he’s not a member of our class, I’d like to take a minute to recognize and thank one of our town’s most famous celebrities.”

  Tristan groaned and sank back to the truck.

  “Our very own Tristan Ketch gave up time in his busy schedule to whip up some good old-fashioned barbecue grub for us rednecks, even though he’s used to serving caviar and champagne to Boston and Portland’s elite.”

  The crowd turned toward him—all but Jenna—and clapped. Those who thrived on high school gossip back in the day and still today whispered to the person next to them and moved their gazes toward Jenna.

  Maybe he should have gone out of his way to contact her to let her know he’d be here. In all honesty, when he took the job he didn’t think she’d come. It was a shit move on his part, and the stares and smirks proved him right.

  Granted, it was only from a few. Most of the crowd either had no idea who he and Jenna were, or didn’t live the past fifteen years of their lives following small town gossip. Still, the few who snickered stung. And it had to sting even more for Jenna.

  He offered a quick wave before ducking back to his smoker, pretending to be busy with dinner. The trailer-turned-smoker would be his best shield for the night. The food didn’t need his attention, but no one needed to know that.

  At least with the menu he’d be in and out pretty quick. The potato and pasta salads were in disposable aluminum pans, and worst-case scenario, he would leave his utensils behind.

  Thirty minutes. Forty-five tops and he’d be gone. Just hurry the hell up and eat. Time seemed to drag on as speeches were made and jokes were cracked. The crew did a sucky job at reading the signs. The line at the bar was steady, Jenna going up twice.

  Finally, they announced dinner, and everyone made a beeline for the food. It was pretty easy to keep the food dishes filled, even without his normal crew. At some point Jenna would come serve her plate. When she did, he’d be sure to be at the other end of the table.

  Keeping a watchful eye out for her and Mindy, he did just that, not making any contact with her. Impressed with himself for maintaining some iota of sanity, he breathed a sigh of relief as the line thinned out.

  Now, only those coming up for seconds were at the table, and he busied himself consolidating the pasta, cleaning up the spilled food, bringing out more of his homemade barbecue sauce.

  The music grew louder telling him dinner was over, and the dancing was beginning. In another ten minutes he’d be on his merry way giving Jenna the space he knew she needed.

  Tristan closed the door to the smoker and latched it. “Dinner was good.” The angelic voice behind him startled him, and he missed the latch with the lock.

  Slowly, giving himself time to compose himself, he turned. There she stood, less than two feet away from him, holding a plastic cup in her hand and chewing on the thin, red straw with her teeth.

  “Thanks.” He shoved his hands deep in his jean pockets, thankful the white apron covered his front. Not that junior was out of control. Still. It was nice to know there was coverage if needed.

  Jenna was hot. Smoking hot. She was always beautiful, and he was glad she didn’t resort to caking on makeup as too many women had, especially tonight. He’d loved her natural beauty, as corny and cheesy as that sounded.

  “I didn’t know you—”

  “I should have told you. I’m sorry to have caught you off guard. Kevin asked me, and I didn’t really think about it.” That was sort of a lie. No. A complete lie. He’d thought about it a lot. Too much.

  “It’s okay.” She shrugged, her bare shoulder lifting, the twinkling white lights glowing off her sun-kissed skin. “I came with Mindy.” She sipped again, keeping her eyes over his shoulder.

  “I saw. She’s not too happy with the surprise either, I’m guessing.”

  A sparkle of mischief twinkled in her eye. “She had a few choice words for you.”

  “I bet.” He laughed. “And I deserved all of them,” he said solemnly.

  “No.” Jenna finished her drink and set it on the table. “That’s not fair. We’ve been over for a long, long time. I told you before, I’ve moved on and am fine with ... with whatever. You deserve to work. I’m glad they hired you. Dinner was delicious.”

  He didn’t mention he wasn’t making a profit off the event, charging only the cost of food.

  “Thank you. Still. I could have given you a heads-up.”

  “I’m okay. Really. Alexis shays—” She cleared her throat, the effects of alcohol slurring her speech. “Alexis says the wine pairing is going well.” She swayed to the left and blinked, the movement in slow motion.

  So that was why she came over. Liquid courage. Instead of laughing, he took the olive branch she offered. “It’s going well.”

  Her phone rang, and she held up a finger to stop him from talking. “Hello?”

  Tristan used her moment of distraction to soak in her beauty, even more amazing close up. She still smelled like the cucumber melon lotion he used to buy her when they were younger.

  “Oh my god. Is he okay?” She swayed some more, and Tristan stepped closer to hold her. Jenna grabbed his wrist, holding on to him for support. Physical or emotional, he didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. “I’m on my way home. Thank you for calling.”

  “Is everything okay?” Stupid question. Of course it wasn’t.

  “Jerry. He’s been rushed to the hospital. I need to go.”

  Tristan couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that stabbed at his heart. “Sweetheart, you can’t drive.” The endearment slipped from his lips, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I’m all packed up and heading right through your town. Let me bring you home.”

  “He’s in the hospital. I need to go to there.”

  “Which one?” He took her hands in his and squeezed reassuringly.

  “I don’t...” Jenna looked nervously around the busy tent. The alcohol and the news of her boyfriend Jerry disturbing her to a level of near panic.

  “It’s okay. I’ll head toward Crystal Cove and figure it out from there.” Her body was limp and frail as he guided her toward the passenger side of the truck.

  “Wait.” She stopped before climbing up. “My purse. And Mindy.”

  “I’ll go tell her.”

  “No need,” Mindy said from behind them. “Where are you taking her?”

  Tristan took two long strides to her. “Her boyfriend was rushed to the hospital.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, impressed with himself for being able to say that word. “I’m giving her a ride since I’m heading in that direction, and she’s in no condition to drive,” he said softly.

  “Boyfriend?”

  He wasn’t sure how close she was to Jerry, but his name had come up more than once in the few times they’d spoken to each other. And the sheer panic in her eyes told him her relationship with the guy was more than casual.

  “Yes. So if you’re going into your overprotective best friend mode, it’s okay.
Jenna and I are friends now. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that.”

  He wouldn’t. A friendship was more than he ever expected to have again with her, and he wouldn’t risk the potential of one by being jealous that she’d moved on. After all, he’d moved on too. He had a marriage and divorce certificate to prove it.

  “Tristan.”

  “We need to go. I’ll take care of her.” The glare from Mindy now gone, he turned and rushed back to Jenna.

  Climbing into his seat, he started up the truck and offered a quick reassurance. “I’ll get you to the hospital. To pass the time, tell me when you learned to dance.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned, resting her head against the window. “I think I’m drunk. I must have looked like a fool.”

  He chuckled. “You were cute out there.”

  “Cute.” She snorted. “You must be drunk too.”

  “Not a drop of alcohol in me.” He could be drunk off her beauty, though.

  “It’s all Mia’s fault. She’s the worst.”

  Tristan didn’t remember a Mia from high school. “You visited the bar quite a few times on your own accord, it seemed.”

  “You’ve been watching me?”

  Might as well be honest. “Everyone at the party was.”

  “Great,” she moaned again.

  Realizing she probably thought he meant because of their past, he came clean. “You’re beautiful.” Again, the drunken snort. “Actually, you’re hot. The men couldn’t help but stare at you out on that dance floor. The other women couldn’t hold a candle to you.”

  “You always were smooth with the words.”

  “Honest with the words,” he reminded her. “So tell me about this Mia girl who likes to get you drunk so you can dance.”

  For the next twenty minutes she rambled about her friends, many of whom he’d already met. Alexis, Lily, Grace, Hope and Mia. She told him about their book club, the weddings at the winery, the growing town, and her art.

  Then came Jerry. “He means the world to me.” She sniffed and used the back of her hand to wipe her nose. Tristan leaned over and opened the glove box, taking out a napkin for her. “Thanks.”

  The last thing he wanted to hear about was the new man in her life, but this was what friends were for. So he did the chivalrous thing and asked questions.

  “How long have you been with Jerry?”

  “Five years. He’s the reason I moved to Crystal Cove. He gave me a home, a job, and has supported me through it all.”

  It should have been him, but Tristan was grateful she had a man in her life who loved her.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do when he dies.”

  “He’s dying?” Now he felt like a total ass. Her boyfriend was sick, cancer maybe? And here he was stewing in testosterone-filled jealousy.

  “I don’t think he has much longer to live.”

  “Sweetheart.” Tristan reached over the center console and took her hand in his. “I’m so sorry. Do you know which hospital he’s at?”

  She named one not too far from town. Good, they hadn’t passed it yet. A few miles later he turned down Route One and into the hospital parking lot.

  “I’ll go in with you.” He pulled into a space fairly close to the main entrance and hopped out of the van, rushing to Jenna’s side of the vehicle. “Do you know what room number he’s in?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. We’ll find out.” Taking her hand in his, he guided them to the entrance and to the front desk. “Hi. Our friend Jerry...” He turned to Jenna for more information.

  “Jerry Bishop. What room is he in?”

  The receptionist typed into a computer. “Are you friend or family?”

  “My name is Jenna Snyder. I should be—”

  “Yes. You’re on the family list. He’s in room 325. He’s probably sleeping, so check in with the nurses’ station when you get there. The elevators are down the hall on your left.”

  “Thank you.” Tristan ushered her toward the elevator and pushed the number three once inside. “You okay?” Her body trembled, and she leaned into him.

  “I’m scared.”

  Pulling her into an embrace, he hugged her, resting his chin on top of her head. “I’m right here, sweetheart, if you need anything. Okay?”

  The elevator dinged too quickly, the doors opening to the floor. Jerry’s room wasn’t too far down the corridor, and Tristan had to hurry to keep up with Jenna.

  She bypassed the nurses’ station, tapped on the slightly ajar door, and pushed it open.

  “Jerry?” she whispered into the dark room. It was after midnight, the floor quiet except the occasional beeping from machines.

  Tristan wasn’t sure whether to follow her in or stay behind. Since their hands were still interlocked, he had no choice except to follow, unless he wanted to release her hand. Which he did not.

  There was no response and only enough light from the hall to show Jerry’s silhouette. He let go of her hand so she could approach the bed. Standing against the wall, he watched as she sat at the edge of his bed and picked up his hand, attached to an IV.

  The love she had for her boyfriend was evident in her words, in the way she touched him.

  A woman entered the room. “Jenna. The front desk said you were here.” She smiled politely at Tristan and moved toward Jerry. “He’s been asking for you ever since the ambulance brought him in.”

  “The ambulance? He’ll never let me live that one down.”

  Jerry coughed, and both women moved closer. Jenna sat him up more, and the nurse pounded on his back. Tristan stepped out of the room to give the man some privacy.

  The coughing stopped. “You came back to marry me.”

  Again, his heart dropped to his feet. Jerry’s voice was scratchy and hollow, and Jenna’s response was immediate. “You know, I may just have to take you up on your offer.”

  “Hundredth time’s a charm.” The coughing continued again.

  Tristan would have left to give them privacy, but he wanted to make sure she had a way to get home. A moment later the nurse stepped out. Noticing him, she nodded toward the door.

  “I know Jenna wants to stay by Jerry’s side, but he really needs to sleep. And by the dark circles under her eyes, so does Jenna.”

  “Oh. Sure. I can bring her home and have her back first thing in the morning.”

  “Knowing Jenna and her love for the old man, she’ll be back before that.”

  Old man? What an odd expression to use for her boyfriend. Tristan went back into the room and took a closer look at the couple on the bed.

  Jerry had to be a hundred, if not older. In the dim light from the bedside, his age spots shown through the thin whips of white hair on his head. His skin was wrinkled and fair, his gnarled fingers still curled around Jenna’s.

  A sense of relief washed over Tristan.

  The old man’s eyelids drooped closed then opened, his gaze meeting Tristan’s. “Who’s your friend?”

  Jenna turned around and smiled at Tristan.

  “Jerry, meet Tristan. Tristan, this is Jerry.”

  “Congratulations on the engagement.” Tristan held out his hand and earned a smile from the old man.

  “I’ve been at her since the day she entered my house.” He coughed again, and this time Tristan stepped in, holding Jerry’s frail shoulders as Jenna had done while she banged on his back.

  When the coughing fit was over, he leaned back, and Jenna held a cup of water and a straw to his lips.

  “You need your sleep. The nurses did me a favor by letting me come see you. I’ll be by in the morning, okay?”

  “You’re going to bust me out of this place, right?”

  “Jerry.” She took his hand in hers and patted it gently. “We rushed you home too quickly last time. That’s why the pneumonia is back. You’ll get better care here.”

  “I don’t want my final days to be in a hospital. You promised me that.”

  “Your final days aren’t here. You
have to see your soap opera through to the end.”

  “Rubbish. That show will still be on for another twenty years.”

  “And we’ll be celebrating our twentieth wedding anniversary in Port Charles.”

  Tristan hadn’t a clue what they were talking about.

  “Oh, Jenna.” His eyes closed, and his hand went limp. “I’ll stick around until ... you don’t need me ... anymore.”

  “I’ll always need you, Jerry.”

  The old man’s breathing slowed, his head rolling to the side in a relaxed slumber.

  “So you and Jerry, huh?” Tristan teased a few minutes later when they were back in his vehicle. The drive and the time in the hospital seemed to sober her some.

  “I told you, he means the world to me.”

  “I know. I thought...” Should he say it? Why the hell not? “I thought Jerry was your boyfriend.”

  “He wishes,” she said with a sad smile.

  “I take it that wasn’t the first time he proposed to you?”

  “Pretty much weekly. Though I know he’d never marry again. He’s still in love with his wife. She died fifteen years ago, and she’ll always own his heart. They were married for fifty-six years before she died.”

  “That’s pretty romantic.” Seventy-one years and still in love with the same woman. It could happen as long as it was the right couple.

  “It is. I could write a book about their marriage. A love story for all ages. His sons, however, are complete assholes.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  Tristan headed toward town, not wanting their night to end. “What road do you live on?”

  “I’m on the way to Coastal Vines.” She gave him the address, and he followed her directions. He’d driven by the farmhouse a few times, not realizing it was where she lived.

  When he parked in front of the side porch, she opened the door and turned to him. “I appreciate the lift. And you sticking around the hospital. It was more than you needed to do. Thank you.”

  “Anytime. Seriously. Let me know if you need anything. Ever.” Great. Now he sounded desperate. Clingy.

  “Thanks.” She hopped down, and he was tempted to follow her to the door, to see her in.