Finding Our Way Back (A Well Paired Novel)

by Rice, Marianne

  “Where does Tristan play into all of this?” Lily normally didn’t meddle, so Jenna took her question as wanting to help her sort out her feelings.

  Looking around the table, she saw a twinkle of amusement, lots of curiosity, but mostly, concern. These were her friends. Over the years, they’d opened up to her, to the group about their problems and issues.

  Never once had they judged each other. There was no drama within, not even with Alexis and Grace. They may not have been close sisters in their teens and early twenties, but they’d grown closer in the past year than they’d ever been. Or, at least, that was what they’d said.

  And it showed. It wasn’t like she didn’t trust them with the details of her past. She wasn’t ashamed of it; she just wanted to start over. To forget about it all. Talking about it would only make it real again.

  “You okay?” Hope covered her wrist with her hand. “Ignore Mia and Grace. They’re being nosey. You’ve just suffered a loss and don’t have to put up with their teasing.”

  Jenna glanced at Alexis, who only had sympathy and understanding in her eyes.

  “Tristan is my ex-husband.”

  “He what?”

  “Ho-ly. Shit.”

  “No effing way.”

  “Wow.”

  “Knew it.”

  They all spoke at once, and she had no idea who said what. It didn’t matter. This was the easy part.

  “Wait. He’s your ex? And he catered our wedding? Did you know ahead of time? Why didn’t you tell me?” Lily pushed her wine glass away and leaned across the table.

  “I knew.” She nodded toward Alexis. “I had her as my protector.”

  “Protector? Did Tristan—”

  “No, not for that,” she reassured Grace. “Our divorce was painful. He didn’t want it. I did.”

  “What did the asshole do?”

  Hope smacked Mia’s arm. “Seriously. Let the poor woman talk.”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “At the beginning? Sometimes it’s best.” Grace shared her painful story a few months ago. She’d lowered herself to living as another man’s mistress, all to gain more notoriety with her fashion designs.

  None of it fared well, but she came out alright in the end. Stronger, according to Alexis.

  “We started dating in high school,” she began.

  Two hours had gone by when she finally finished her tale. Their marriage. The pregnancy. Tristan running a red light and slamming into Jenna’s car, killing their child and any chance of her ever getting pregnant again.

  Tissues had been passed around the table three or four times. Hugs and sighs followed.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine.” Hope rubbed her belly, the signs of pregnancy not yet showing. “It must be so hard for you. I’m sorry for bringing up my pregnancy.”

  “Please. Don’t be.” Jenna nodded vigorously. “I admit I had a hard time seeing Alexis with Sophie at first.”

  “I’m—”

  “Don’t even think about apologizing. It was unexpected. You weren’t even pregnant and then, BAM. You had a newborn baby to call your own. I was jealous, which was why I grew distant for a while. It’s not your fault. These are my issues I needed to deal with.”

  “Had we known—”

  “I know.” She wouldn’t allow any of them to apologize. Had they known they would have treated her with kid gloves, and she didn’t want that. She wanted real, honest to goodness friends. And she had that.

  “I love babies. And children. I can’t run away every time I see one.” Although she did for the first year after she lost her daughter. Which was why she never wanted to leave her room. “In some sort of reverse way, caring for Jerry fulfilled my need to take care of someone.”

  “This is more than losing a man you worked for,” Lily, always intuitive, said.

  “Yes. Had he died a year ago, I don’t think I would be as prepared to face my future as I am now.”

  “Is this where Tristan comes in?” Leave it to Mia to bring the conversation back to him.

  “Sort of. I won’t lie. Seeing him at the winery shocked the hell out of me. I still had a lot of anger toward him.”

  “Had?” Alexis had stuck to her side like a mother cat ready to defend her kitten. She was ready to drop her contract with Tristan anytime Jenna said the word.

  “Yes, had. He’s been nothing but kind to me these past few months.”

  “Months?” Grace asked. “You’ve been seeing him a lot?”

  “More like accidentally running into each other.”

  “Uh, huh,” Mia and Grace said in unison.

  “It makes sense now that he’s around more with the pairing at Coastal Vines.”

  “That’s only twice a month,” Alexis reminded them.

  “He catered my class reunion.”

  “The one where you looked like a bombshell in my red boots? No wonder.”

  “He was there when I got the call that Jerry was in the hospital. I’d been drinking and couldn’t drive myself back.”

  “That’s why Carter was so upset. He wouldn’t say anything to Brady and me, but we knew it had something to do with you.”

  “In comes the knight in shining armor.” The skepticism in Alexis’ voice didn’t go unnoticed by their friends.

  “What’s your beef with him, sis?”

  “I don’t want to see Jenna screwed over. Why now? He went what, seven years without trying to contact her? If they hadn’t run into each other, would he still be interested? Or does he want one last time with her before he moves on? He was married to his business partner for two years. The ink on the divorce papers has barely dried.”

  All heads turned to Jenna. She knew about the marriage but never asked him details. If she did, it would mean she cared, and she couldn’t afford to care.

  Like Carter. No questions. No details. No emotions. No hurt.

  If only it was that easy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  There was another hour of questions and answers before her friends left, and she slid the deadbolt in the door. In a way, unloading was freeing. No more secrets, no more shame of being jealous of Sophie, or Hope’s growing belly.

  They all expected Lily to make a baby announcement any day as well. As long as she was sipping on wine, they knew she wasn’t keeping a secret. Jenna had found comfort in that, but now she wanted Lily and Ty to have a baby.

  Her friends deserved all the happiness in the world. She’d never begrudge it from them. Shutting off the lights in the kitchen, the loneliness set in. As if on autopilot, she went to Jerry’s room but didn’t turn on the light.

  Everything was as she left it three days ago. Her parents had come down the day after he died to be with her. They stripped his bed and washed his linens, and even scrubbed his bathroom, even though it was already pretty darn clean.

  They’d been a godsend. They loved Jerry as well, coming down to visit every few months. He always looked forward to her parents’ visits. Family was important to her. It was important to him as well, which was why it hurt so much that his two sons had completely abandoned him.

  Jenna expected them to show up any day now to claim whatever they thought they had a right to. The house, whatever was in the bank account, Jerry’s investments. Not many knew how terrible his sons had been to him.

  She would have mentioned it to her parents or friends, but she respected his privacy. It wasn’t her story to tell. It would be nice, however, to have someone by her side if they did show up kicking and screaming for Jerry’s possessions.

  Ben was only a mile down the road, as was Brady. Her friends’ husbands would come rushing to her side, if need be.

  And so would Carter.

  And Tristan.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, she let out a heavy, sad sigh. With Jerry gone, she had no purpose. No reason to check her clock or monitor in the morning, no one to cook for, care for.

  It was just her.

  Per Jerry’s reques
t, there was no funeral. No gathering. Instead, she’d honored him in her own way by sharing some of the stories he’d told her with her parents and friends. There was laughter and tears, and now it was time to move on.

  At least she had her pottery. Needing the comfort from her clay, she shut off the lights and went to her room to change into her dingy sweats and button-down shirt. Her “throwing clay” clothes.

  Jenna slipped out the back door through the kitchen, first turning on the back lights that guided her down the path to the barn. The air was cool and crisp, and she wished for a blanket to warm her.

  Or a set of strong arms wrapped around her.

  “Nope. Don’t go there. Think about your pottery, girl.” If only her conscience would listen to her mouth.

  Once inside, she flicked on the lights, set the music to Sinatra and Friends in honor of Jerry, and got to work at her potter’s wheel.

  The rhythm of throwing the clay, wetting her hands, and gently pressing on the pedal to spin the wheel took her mind off the stresses of the past few weeks. She managed to work through four songs before worry set in again.

  Six months ago, by Jerry’s request, she set up an in-home appointment for him with his attorney. They’d updated his will and done whatever it was you did when tying up loose ends before you die.

  Respecting his privacy, she’d stayed in her room the entire time, only coming out when she heard the porch door close.

  What if his sons did come by with their expensive New York lawyers and kicked her out of the house? Instead of making a set of serving bowls, she thought about the packing she needed to do. Finishing the piece she was working on, she slowed the wheel and scraped the clay off, dumping it in her work bucket.

  It was crap anyway. She hadn’t planned on actually making anything good. She just needed something to keep her hands and mind occupied. It didn’t take long to clean up and turn off the lights.

  On her short walk back to the house, she was keenly aware of the silence of the night. It wasn’t fear that prickled her skin, but the reminder of how alone she was.

  Yes, she had friends. She had her art. But Jerry had been her purpose. It was wrong, she knew. Jenna needed to find her own purpose.

  Now that she had time on her hands, she should invest it into her pottery and painting, making her hobby a career.

  Tomorrow, she’d be visiting Mr. Swan in his office in Rockland. She’d pack up Jerry’s belongings, do whatever the lawyer said to do with them, and start her new life.

  Her new career.

  She wasn’t alone like so many years ago when she was searching for someone or something to fill the hole in her heart. This time she was planning her future.

  Alone.

  And happy.

  Or at least, content.

  “YOU’RE KIDDING.” JENNA sat up straighter, sliding to the edge of her seat. Her heart racing with confusion and excitement.

  “He was quite clear in his final wishes, Ms. Snyder.” Daniel Swan seemed kinder today in his office than he had been when he’d visited Jerry’s house a while back. Not that he was rude before. He’d been ... quietly inquisitive of her. Or, at least, that was how she felt under his scrutiny.

  He slid a paper across his shiny desk, and she picked it up with reluctant hands.

  “Why me?”

  “I asked him the same question when we met in May.” Swan leaned back in his leather chair and tapped his fancy pen on his desk. “Mr. Bishop was quite fond of you. He thought of you as family. In fact”—he slid out an envelope from a stack of manila folders and handed it to her—“he wanted me to give you this letter as well.”

  A letter from Jerry. Her name was scribbled across the front of the envelope in his shaky script. She couldn’t remember the last time he had enough muscle control in his hands to write a letter.

  For the first few years, he’d worked tirelessly every day on crosswords, Sudoku, and any other puzzle or trivia questions he could get his hands on. It had been his bout with pneumonia last winter that had wiped his energy and his ability to do much more than watch television and tell stories of Brigitte.

  Touched by the amount of effort it must have taken him to write to her, she held onto it with a hungry heart and clutched it to her chest. She’d wait to read it when she was alone. In the meantime, she focused on the paper on the desk and read the details.

  Jerry, in fact, left his fully paid for home to her and had put her name on his insurance as a beneficiary.

  “I don’t know what to say. I figured I’d be going back to the house to pack up my things. I even started searching for apartments online.” Or rather, she put it at the top of her to-do list.

  “There’s some paperwork we’ll need to complete before I can sign over the deed to the house to you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you have an attorney you’d like to call to make sure the documents are clear and to search for any loopholes?”

  “I trust Jerry.”

  Swan lowered his brows at her as if she were a naïve girl unaware of what she was getting herself into.

  “Unless it’s standard to hire your own attorney?”

  “Only if you don’t trust or are unsure of the legally binding documents to which you are signing.”

  For three hours she listened as he went over every line of every document, signing where he’d highlighted underneath Jerry’s signature.

  It wasn’t until she walked through the door to the house—her house—that the enormity of the situation hit her. Curling up in Jerry’s favorite chair, she closed her eyes and let the tears fall.

  Once again he’d saved her. Saved her from hurting herself, from losing herself, and now he helped her find herself. And he even gave her a home. His home, which meant the world to him.

  The only thing he left to his sons were a handful of photo albums and two boxes of some childhood items Brigitte had been holding on to. They were stored in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs.

  When the tears stopped flowing, Jenna wiped her cheeks with her shoulder and snagged two tissues from the box on the end table to blow her nose.

  She was a wreck. Hopefully, none of her friends would stop by with a surprise visit. They’d been her life support lately. Reaching up behind her, she pulled Jerry’s blanket down across her shoulders and wrapped herself in it before opening his letter.

  Dearest Jenna,

  My final days are upon me now, and if you’re reading this, it means I’ve passed. Please don’t shed sad tears. I’m in Heaven now where I belong, standing next to my beautiful bride. She’s been waiting patiently for me all these years, but she knew my time on earth wasn’t yet done.

  We weren’t able to save our boys, and it nearly broke my dear wife too early in our lives together. By the grace of God, we held on to each other for support and lived a very happy, full life together.

  You can’t control other people’s actions or feelings. We learned that the hard way. After Brigitte passed, I didn’t want to continue on with my life. Somehow I managed. The night before you came into my life I’d contemplated taking a month’s worth of medication in one dose.

  I would have if my hands could have opened those damned bottles. When you walked into my living room, I saw the same empty eyes I saw in Brigitte’s when we’d lost our boys to greed and materialism.

  I knew I couldn’t leave the earth while your eyes spoke of such sadness. I thought I was doing you a favor by distracting you from the worries you’d come to escape, but really, you were God’s angel sent to rescue me.

  You are the daughter Brigitte and I never got to have. You’re the child we so much wanted to share every day with. The grandchild we wished to have visit. So thank you, Jenna, for bringing light and joy back into my life.

  Thank you for rescuing me from doing the unthinkable. And please don’t be sad that I’m gone. I lived a long, full life. My time is up, and I’m going to the most wonderful paradise with my one true love.

  I won’t leave y
ou until I know you’re in a good place too. You’re a beautiful, strong, brave, independent, intelligent, kind-hearted young woman.

  Love and be loved. It’s the greatest gift anyone can give.

  You have my love, Jenna. Now go share it.

  My heart,

  Jerry

  P.S. I don’t want my gift to be a burden for you. You have my blessing if you choose to sell the home, renovate, rebuild, or keep as is. My wish is for you to make a home—wherever it may be—that will bring you as much love as this home has brought me and Brigitte.

  She had to put the letter down before she soaked it with her tears. Her throat was tight and dry, and her stomach shook from crying. Taking a handful of tissues, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose again.

  He was right. He was in a better place now, with his wife in heaven. Jenna’s tears were selfish tears. She loved caring for him. Listening to his stories of love and hope. And she could carry those on to her friends.

  Mopping her eyes, she kept the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and went to her room to change out of her skirt and blouse. She contemplated bringing Jerry’s blanket with her to the barn, but she didn’t want it to get ruined.

  Once again, she set the music to Sinatra, this time finding her creative Zen, and got lost in her pottery. Painting was relaxing as well, but only when she had a clear vision or inspiration of what to paint.

  It was more emotionally taxing and fulfilling to paint. The effort on concentration wasn’t something she could handle right now. With her potter’s wheel, she could sculpt while her mind wandered off. If it turned out to be a mess, there was a sense of satisfaction when she crushed the blob with her wet hands and started over again.

  With painting, she hated wasting an expensive canvas and paints when her heart wasn’t in it. This past summer, she’d set up her easel at Coastal Vines and painted the gazebo with the vineyard in the background.

  Alexis’ giant Bernese Mountain dog Hemsworth made his way into the painting as well. People weren’t her favorite thing to paint, so she typically stuck to objects and landscapes.

  Hemmy, however, had practically demanded to be a figure trotting down a path, a stick in his mouth.