Home From Within

by Lisa Maggiore

  It took Jessica a minute to answer. “I think it will be all right.”

  Last night, Jessica had watched the movie Purple Rain for the first time in seventeen years. “The Beautiful Ones” was something private she shared with Paul. And he was dead. While the memories held up well after all these years, so did the shame.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Jean said after it was over. Jessica turned down the next song, thinking it might offend Jean.

  “In a good or bad way?”

  “I’ve never heard that kind of singing before—especially at the end.”

  “The end is what I like best,” Jessica said, feeling more at ease. “When I was sixteen, I used to daydream that two boys liked me. I could only be true to one, so I had to pick. One of the boys decided he would sing that song to me to push the odds in his favor. And it worked, of course.”

  “I could see why you’d daydream that. I’m sure it made you feel loved.”

  Jessica turned her head, afraid Jean might see her tears.

  “What are Jake’s plans this summer?” Jessica decided the best line of defense was a conversation changer. That always worked with Jean.

  Jean rambled as Jessica nodded and interjected at the right moments, but all her head was involved in was a tug-of-war over something she could not change—the past.

  When Jessica had first arrived at Aunt Lodi’s, she begged for her to call her father and plead for Paul’s life. Aunt Lodi did not have a phone in her home and made all calls from work or the neighbor’s home a few minute’s walk away. When she returned from the neighbor’s, she said that their home phone rang for five minutes but no one answered. Aunt Lodi reassured Jessica that while her father may have some “control” issues, she could not envision him killing Paul because of her pregnancy.

  “You think you know him but you don’t. He will kill Paul, trust me,” Jessica blubbered. Jessica had not stopped crying and was rarely without Kleenex or toilet paper balled in the fists of her hands.

  Aunt Lodi held Jessica in her arms and talked softly, “Honey, it’s not healthy for the baby to be so upset. I promise I will call your dad again tomorrow. I’m sure everything’s fine and Paul’s safe at his home too.”

  After Jessica had been there a few days, Aunt Lodi came home from work, and her face was pale and her lips without a smile. Jessica noticed immediately and asked if she had spoken to her father. Aunt Lodi lowered herself onto the couch with her coat still on and a large bag that displayed Native American beadwork slid off her shoulder. She looked up at Jessica with wide eyes.

  “Your father said Paul was dead.”

  Jessica shook her head back and forth with so much force that her hair flung into her eyes. This time, her voice was loud and clear. “No, no, NO!”

  Jessica ran upstairs and buried herself underneath the covers of her bed. She scrunched into a fetal position and wrapped her arms around her pillows and pulled them tight against her skin. While sobbing, she spoke out loud to Paul.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I’m so sorry.” She repeated those words over and over, and did not stop even when Aunt Lodi crawled next to her and gathered her into her arms, shushing her into eventual sleep.

  For a week, Jessica rarely left her bed. She cried and prayed. She prayed for Paul, for her unborn child, and for forgiveness because she knew the risks of getting into a relationship but she rationalized them away. And now Paul was dead … because of her.

  Aunt Lodi stayed home from work and tried to get Jessica to eat, but it was to no avail. Finally she used guilt around the baby’s health as a way to coax Jessica out of a steady stream of tears to only a trickle and eventually, none. But Jessica remained in a state of slow motion. She did not say Paul’s name out loud again, and never mentioned her father’s.

  One day, despite a headache that would not go away, Jessica was working on trigonometry that Aunt Lodi had purchased from a homeschooling program, when she found a newspaper clipping from Chicago. It was stuck to her workbook with something that looked like coffee. While she could not read all the print because the stain blotted out some of the words, she started to recognize names. Those names made her hands shake and her heart pound fiercely. It was a short notice about a missing boy named Paul Peterson. His mother, Dee Dee, had asked for anyone with information about his whereabouts to contact her or the police.

  Jessica threw up in the kitchen sink. As she gripped the kitchen counter with her swollen hands, her throat constricted because she actually started to think she should call the police on her father. But then she remembered his words: “You ever have any boys outside your window again, they will be filled with bullets from these two guns. I will tell my cop friends that they were trying to break in. I will be completely absolved of any wrongdoing.”

  Her father had many police friends, not only from serving time together in Vietnam, but also his private security company trained many of the special units on the police force. Jessica was convinced her father would lie and that her mother would protect him with an alibi. Without Paul’s body, or physical evidence, she believed her father’s words played true; he would be completely absolved of any wrongdoing.

  When Aunt Lodi returned home from work that evening, Jessica told her that she had found the newspaper clipping about Paul. Aunt Lodi grabbed Jessica’s hands into hers and told her that she was going to contact someone in Chicago about the situation, and that Jessica will have to tell her version of events, and possibly testify against her father.

  “It’s no use to fight against him. He will never be convicted. He has too many police friends,” Jessica whispered because she struggled to find her breath. Suddenly, she toppled to the floor. Aunt Lodi tried to wake her and when that did not work, ran to the neighbor’s home and phoned for an ambulance. Jessica had developed preeclampsia, and when she returned home from her three-day hospital stay, she had to go on bed rest while being treated with medication. Her condition was closely monitored by a doctor, but Aunt Lodi believed that her high blood pressure was linked to the stress in her life. And so, to protect Jessica and her baby from further harm, Aunt Lodi stopped talking about Paul and prosecuting her father.

  After many months on bed rest due to her high-risk pregnancy, Jessica finally gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Shortly after giving birth, Jessica learned that her father was in the hospital. She was so stressed at the news of her father’s arrival that the nurse had given her extra medicine to reduce her high blood pressure. Aunt Lodi brought him to the nursery where he held his granddaughter, then left at Aunt Lodi’s request, protecting Jessica’s fragile being. A few weeks after the birth, her father showed up, unannounced, on Aunt Lodi’s doorstep. Jessica ran upstairs with her daughter in tow while Aunt Lodi stepped onto the front porch, not allowing him in. Jessica stood at the window, clinging to her baby as if that would offer protection, and listened to Aunt Lodi’s raised voice.

  “I told you to not come here. You’re harming Jessica’s well-being.”

  “She’s my daughter, and now I have a granddaughter. I’m not staying away.”

  “You killed her boyfriend, your granddaughter’s father. That’s sick, Jim, just plain sick.”

  “My job is to protect Jessica, and my granddaughter. Do you know he was a drug dealer?”

  “You are not God, Jim. You don’t have the right to choose who lives and who dies!”

  “When it comes to my family, I do,” Jim said. “And you should know that well, Lodi.”

  Despite Aunt Lodi’s plea, Jessica’s father showed up every couple of weeks. At first, he stayed on the front porch because he was denied admission into the home, sitting on a lawn chair for hours despite the weather. Jessica was not sure why, but seeing her father remain steadfast on the porch in the brutal winter and the gloom of spring was something she wanted to last. After many months of sneaking peeks at her father from a distance, Jessica gave Aunt Lodi permission to show him pictures of his granddaughter, Paulina. On Paulina’s first birt
hday, he was granted entrance into Aunt Lodi’s home. Jessica had not considered how her body would feel being so close to his presence. Jessica could not bring her eyes to meet his so she left the living room and hid upstairs, tucking herself into her bed and shaking underneath the covers.

  Her father continued to visit monthly unless he was on a business trip, developing a relationship with Paulina, and trying to salvage one with Jessica. Eventually, her father’s presence brought a little light to her darkened heart, but she placed an invisible boundary around herself, not allowing her father into her physical space, never wanting him to think that he could get closer. She rarely said one word to him, but his continual attempts to be a good grandfather eased some of her pain. Paulina ran to him for a big hello hug or a loud kiss on the cheek, and he would lift her up high. He always had a treat in the front pocket of his T-shirt, and she would reach in and pull out a lollipop, or a sticker, or a quarter.

  At first Jessica, Paulina, and her father would go fishing at the creek on Aunt Lodi’s property. Paulina was three and an easy buffer against any personal moment her father may have wanted to share with Jessica. Paulina continued to be a constant companion between the three of them, so alone time with her father could remain in short supply. Once Jessica moved in with Matt, Paulina was eleven and became more independent, spending time with friends and sports. So when Jessica’s father would visit the farm, she thought riding the horses would be the best way to brave the time. Their moments together were quiet, sometimes uncomfortable, making talk around nature and the weather. Jessica decided that his effort with Paulina, which was more loving than she had ever remembered him being toward her, was his way of trying to smooth things out.

  Her mother would visit once a month for a few days and it turned the cabin heavy.

  “Lodi, do you think that’s a wise suggestion?” she would ask in a light but hierarchical way.

  Aunt Lodi would never address her slights outright, but instead made jokes, trying to make her laugh. But Jessica saw the twitch in the corner of Aunt Lodi’s eye, and knew that if she spoke her mind, it would probably be something like, “keep your nose out of things you cast away.”

  Jake’s friends were waiting on the front porch to help unload all his belongings and Jessica felt exhausted after the long day of driving and moving, plus only getting a few hours of sleep. At least that would be the natural assumption. Deep down she knew the true reason she felt so burned out—memories. She plopped down on the well-worn recliner and closed her eyes. Jean was right; she and Matt needed a night out with friends. Matt was a private person and did not like crowds or a lot of noise, which was fine with Jessica; she usually felt the same. But in the last year, a constant gnawing kept her from feeling comfort in their routine life and kept her from making a commitment, despite love from a very safe man. Jessica was unsure if she was bored. Sometimes she felt like the relationship needed something more, something exciting.

  In the beginning Jessica took refuge in Matt’s calm and predictable presence to help heal pieces of her life. Matt’s heart also needed mending after the loss of his wife (and high school sweetheart) to cancer. Jessica believed they came together because of grief, but fell in love because of safety. They shared his farmhouse for the last seven years as an unmarried couple, but Matt was talking more about marriage and children. Jessica was thirty-four, and while still young enough to have children, the thought made her feel faint.

  Jessica was fading into sleep as she ran through an incident that had happened last week. Matt was having a beer with his brothers in the barn. Jessica felt tired and turned in early; Matt soon followed. He tried to make love to her, but Jessica thwarted him. He lay next to her, looking up at the ceiling with his leg hanging over the side.

  “Jessica, what’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

  She lay with her back toward him, holding in her tears. “Nothing,” she said, trying to convince herself too. Jessica could tell he was a little buzzed because he hardly ever drank or initiated meaningful conversations.

  “Sometimes,” he said, after a few minutes, “it feels like you’re miles away from me.”

  “Because I went to bed early?”

  He turned his head toward her back. “Can you please look at me?”

  Jessica let out a sigh and slowly turned her body toward the ceiling, eventually looking at him.

  “What’s wrong? And please don’t say ‘nothing’ because I can see it on your face.”

  Jessica smirked; he was accurate about that despite being in the dark. But how could she enlighten him when she felt so clouded? The one thing she was aware of was the ache she carried for the last seventeen years was not diminishing and, in fact, was getting stronger. Before she could respond, Matt spoke.

  “I know you feel like you don’t deserve a happy life.”

  Jessica’s eyes became watery. Matt was too easy to cry in front of despite her gut instinct to never show tears to anyone.

  “You have forgiveness. You have prayed more than anyone I know. Don’t you think it’s time to move us forward?” Jessica heard him gulp and then reach for her hand under the blanket. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you as my wife. And I want children with you too.”

  Jessica returned his squeeze; she decided to do the opposite of what her mind was telling her, which was to pull away and get the hell out of there. She had learned from prior experiences that the mind is not always right.

  “Matt,” she said quietly, “I know you love me.” Jessica paused for a moment. “Sometimes I feel alone even though you’re around. I have an ache that persists no matter how happy I tell myself I should be.”

  “Not should, can be. You did nothing wrong to make God punish you to a life of waking misery.”

  Jessica appreciated the words, but her insides did not feel the same way. “I need more time.”

  Matt’s voice eventually broke the silence. “More time to think about marrying me or more time to decide that you deserve forgiveness?”

  Jessica thought for a minute and answered as truthfully as she could. “Both.”

  She could feel Matt’s hurt but could not lie to him.

  He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “You know where I stand. I just wish you’d stop making me compete with the past.” And with that, he turned over and eventually fell into a heavy sleep. Jessica wound her head with his words, unable to sleep the rest of the night.

  Chapter 20

  Snapping her out of her thoughts was a warm caress on her face. Matt was grinning at her like he just won a prize.

  “Oh, hey,” Jessica said, feeling dazed from recounting memories. She pushed the recliner up, and Matt planted a kiss on her lips and then gave her a hug when she stood.

  “Sounds like you worked hard today,” he said in her hair.

  Jessica fell into his hold; it felt really calming.

  “Yes, I think I may have lost a few pounds in the process,” she mused, pulling away from his embrace.

  Jessica took a good look at what he was wearing. Matt would often show up to social outings wearing clothes he wore in the fields, so she was pleasantly shocked upon seeing the dark wash jeans and button-down plaid shirt she bought him from the Eddie Bauer catalog. Jessica saw Matt catch a glimpse of her inspecting his clothes.

  “See, I remembered that this goes with this,” he said, pointing from the shirt to the jeans.

  Jessica pecked him on the lips. “You look great.”

  Ray’s shoulder and arm were in a sling, but his legs needed a stretch despite Jean’s numerous requests that they drive to dinner. The four of them walked ten minutes to Murphy’s Pub, located in the historic business district of town. The district ran four blocks and included a couple of restaurants, a dive bar, used bookstore, boating supplies, and of course a gun and ammo supply store. As they walked, Matt and Jessica held hands, and she listened to the men discuss small town business and farming. She felt both bored and soothed by the banter, lik
e coming home to a place you never thought you would miss. Matt sped up his step to open the door to Murphy’s for everyone.

  They made their way to the couches gathered around the thick stone fireplace so they could wait in comfort for a table. Before sitting down, Jessica and Matt peeked in the dark green and wood room that held pool tables, shooting games, and an array of dartboards. Jessica and Matt used to go to Murphy’s once a week when they first started dating to hang out with Matt’s brothers and friends who loved to talk trash, drink, and play pool. Jessica liked the fact that, while Matt had a good time, he did not need to participate in all their rowdiness. That was not in his nature. Jessica could see in his face, after two beers, that all he wanted was to go back home and ride the horses with Jessica at his side.

  After an array of Irish fare including shepherd’s pie, bangers and mash, plus a couple of pints of Guinness and cider, everyone was laughing and being silly, even Jessica.

  “Ohmigod, they have karaoke tonight,” she exclaimed.

  Jean almost spit out her beer. “Well, I’ll be. I think you’re drunk.”

  “No, I’m not,” Jessica said, sitting up straight in her chair. “I am perfectly sane … in the membrane.”

  Matt started laughing at her. “This is going to be fun. Do you plan on singing in front of everyone?”

  “No, darling, you are,” she said playfully.

  “Matt, did you ever hear the song that Jessica used to daydream about in which a boy who loves her would sing to her?”

  Jessica’s mouth dropped open. “Jean, that was between me, you, and Prince.”

  Matt looked surprised. “What’s this about?”

  Jessica took another gulp of the cider Ray bought her; it was her fourth one.

  “Well,” she said, trying to focus her eyes. “Way back, when I was a big city girl, me and my best friend Marilee snuck out to see Purple Rain, you know the movie with Prince?” Matt and Ray looked lost.

  “Come on, you know Prince … purple rain, purple rain …” she sang off pitch.