by Beth K. Vogt
“A cat then.”
“I’m having a baby, remember? This is no time to get a pet.”
“Cats are very independent.”
“And babies are not. I’m fine.” Johanna sliced into her toast, her lips tight. “We had goldfish. And then Mom had twins. All good.”
“I know that’s not true.”
“What?”
“I know it wasn’t all good when Pepper and I came along.”
“Pffft.” She waved her fork in the air as if dismissing the conversation. “Drink your coffee—at least one of us can.”
“No, tell me. You weren’t an only child before we were born. What was the big deal about me and Pepper?”
“It was just . . . an adjustment. Things were settled before you and Pepper were born.”
“You mean just the two of you—you and Jillian?” Maybe if she kept asking questions, she could understand her sister a little better.
“Exactly.”
“Mom having twins wrecked the status quo, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.”
“And then we just had the invisible line.”
Johanna paused, her fork and knife suspended above her food. “What do you mean?”
If Johanna was being honest, Payton would be honest, too. “You know—on one side you and Jillian. On the other side, me and Pepper.”
“Are you saying I drew that line?”
“No. I don’t know how it got there. It was just there. No one had to draw it.”
Their casual conversation had turned a bend in the road and crossed over into dangerous territory, littered with emotional land mines.
Johanna was cutting her avocado toast to pieces, not eating a bite.
And Jillian wasn’t here to step in and provide a buffer. She hadn’t been doing much of that lately—and she probably didn’t miss the responsibility of having to defuse the tension between Johanna and Payton.
Not that it was her duty to always save the Thatcher sisters.
The ring of Payton’s cell disrupted the conversation, Jillian unwittingly playing her assigned role.
“Hey, Jillian. Hold on a second.” Payton positioned the phone on its side, motioning Johanna to move her chair closer. “Can you see both of us?”
Jillian’s smile seemed forced, as if she was determined to prove to them that she was fine. Happy. “Yes. We finished lunch and Harper went to run some errands, although I think she really left to give me some privacy. So I thought I’d go ahead and call.”
“Great. Johanna’s still eating . . .” There was no need to mention that they’d been trying to unravel the mystery of the invisible boundary line.
“No problem. How are you both doing?”
Johanna made a small signal off camera for Payton to talk first.
“Good. Um . . . Mom and Dad are talking to a couple of different contractors about the back deck. Even a basic design can be pricey, or so they tell me.”
“It’ll be fun to see what they decide to do.”
Payton nodded. “Dad’s gone down and gotten Winston a couple of days and brought him back to their house, but you probably already know that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Geoff hasn’t mentioned it?”
Jillian glanced away. “Geoff and I aren’t talking much right now. We’re giving each other some space.”
Johanna leaned forward. “What is going on with you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this some kind of trial separation or something?”
“No. It’s just a . . . a break.”
“What does that even mean? A break? Is that like a marital time-out? You’ve got a timer going or something?”
With each question, Johanna was turning their first conversation with Jillian into an inquisition. If Harper had still been there, she’d probably step up and defend Jillian—play referee for the Thatcher sisters.
“It means . . . it means life got a bit overwhelming in Colorado. Between Geoff not wanting children and you having a baby . . . I needed a little time away from everything.”
“My having a baby isn’t going to change, Jilly.”
“I know.”
“Are we all supposed to wait until you decide you want to come home and be part of the family again?”
“Johanna!” Payton sat up, jostling the table and knocking the phone over.
“What?” Johanna set the phone upright again. “I thought you wanted to talk with Jillian this morning.”
“I suggested we chat. Let her know how much we miss her.”
“I do miss her. She needs to come home.”
“Oh, right. She’s going to want to come home right now.”
“She’s an adult. We’re all adults. Adults don’t run away from home.”
“Hello?” Jillian tapped on her phone, causing the screen to shake. “I’m right here. And thanks for the phone call. I’m going to sign off now.”
Jillian disappeared from view. It was as good as slamming a door in their faces. There’d been a bit of false bravado in her voice even as she’d ended the call.
“You call that a conversation?” Payton set her phone aside.
“We were all talking, so yes, I do.”
“Jillian hung up on us, thanks to you, Johanna.”
“She needs to grow up and come home.”
“You know what? I’m surprised she stayed on your side of the line for as long as she did.”
“What?”
“That line that separated Pepper and me from you and Jillian. The way you treat her, I’m surprised Jillian stayed on your side for all those years.”
“I treat her fine—”
“No, you don’t. Jillian treats you great. She’s probably too nice to people. And you don’t even see it.” Payton’s eyes filled with tears. “Sometimes I wonder what kind of mother you’re going to be.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it, Johanna. Do you think being a mother is going to be any easier than having a relationship with your sisters?”
“I think it’s time for you to go.” Johanna remained seated.
“You’re right.” Payton should apologize for what she’d said. Apologize for showing up unannounced.
But she wouldn’t. It was too late for apologies.
“Do you want to sit inside or outside?” Harper stepped back from the counter at the coffee shop area in the bookstore after placing their drink orders.
“Let’s snag some of those chairs on the front porch if we can.”
“Why don’t you go ahead outside? I’ll bring the drinks.”
“Sure.” A few moments later, Jillian settled into one of the wooden Adirondack chairs on the bookstore’s front porch. Closed her eyes. Leaned her head back. Relaxed.
Correction. Tried to relax.
With the echoes of the conversation with Johanna and Payton just a few hours ago still on replay in her mind, there was no opportunity to rest.
But then again, she hadn’t rested in so long.
What was the verse in the Bible about being weary and needing rest?
Come to Me . . . Come to Me . . .
She hadn’t picked up her Bible in so long. How could she when she’d left it back in Colorado—had it already been three weeks ago? It wasn’t that she didn’t think about God. She just didn’t know what to say to Him anymore. What to believe about Him. If she could believe in Him.
“You asleep?” Harper’s voice jerked Jillian upright.
“You know me. I’m not much for sleeping.”
“I was hoping maybe being at the beach would help with that. The sound of the ocean lulls me to sleep at night, so I was hoping it would work its sand and surf magic on you, too.”
“Not so much, but I’m enjoying my time here. I love being near the ocean, and some nights I sit on the balcony when I can’t sleep. That’s nice. But I didn’t leave my problems back in Colorado.”
“Problems have a way of
traveling with us.”
“You found that out, too?”
“Yes and no.” Harper adjusted her position in the chair, careful not to slosh her coffee. “It’s nice to not worry about seeing Trent and his new wife when I go to the grocery store. It’s nice not to run into people who knew me as Trent’s wife—losing that identity, at least a little bit. But I still have to live with the reality that I’m divorced, even if no one else knows it.”
“Even though reality doesn’t change with a location, you like being here?”
“I do. It was the right choice for me to move here—but it was my choice. I thought about it for a while.”
“As opposed to running away, you mean?”
Jillian heard herself echoing Johanna’s words from this morning. But unlike Johanna, Harper wouldn’t attack her— she was trustworthy and would simply say what she meant. Even now, she sat quietly and waited for Jillian to process, savoring her coffee as if this were a casual chat between two friends, not the reality that one of them was questioning her marriage.
“Can I ask you a question, Jilly?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t believe in God—you know that. And I’m not trying to talk you out of what you’ve chosen to believe.”
“Okay.” That odd, out-of-sync sensation between them returned.
“You said you decided to believe in God because you wanted more hope in your life, right?”
“Yes.”
“Has it helped? Do you have more hope?”
Harper asked a fair question.
“I wish I could say I did.” Jillian seemed to choke on the unspoken words. “No, I don’t. It seems every time I grasp even the smallest bit of hope, it gets taken away from me.”
“Then what’s the use of believing in God?”
“You’re asking out loud the questions I’ve been asking myself . . . and I don’t know.” Even admitting this much caused her heart to ache. “I guess I took a step forward—a giant step—and I’m afraid to go backward. Stepping toward God seemed so right at the time. As if I was going to finally understand who I was. If I walk away from this, I’m scared I’ll lose myself again.”
“But you’re not any happier.”
“No, I’m not.” Every admission scraped her raw. “Because everything I keep asking for . . . I keep hearing no. And then Johanna gets pregnant. The thing I want so badly? Johanna gets it. What’s that about? How can that make any sense?”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I was hoping you would help me, Harper.” Jillian half turned to face her friend. “It’s funny. Geoff’s disappointed me. God’s disappointed me. But I knew you would help me out.”
“That’s an awful lot to put on my shoulders. You know that, right?”
“You haven’t let me down yet.”
Harper paused, looking away for a moment as if weighing her words. “I do have one thing I want to say, if you’ll let me.”
“Go ahead.”
“You and Geoff? You need to find the common ground between the two of you.”
“I want children. He doesn’t. How is there any common ground?”
“You’re looking at it wrong, Jilly.”
“I don’t think so—”
“You asked for my help, so hear me out, okay? It’s not about what you did or didn’t know was going to happen before you married Geoff. Or what he did or didn’t know about you before he married you. It’s not about breast cancer. Or unknown brothers. Or babies. Or anything else that might happen.” Harper set aside her coffee, her voice earnest. “That’s not the common ground you stand on. You love him. He loves you. That’s your common ground. And nothing else—nothing else—should ever come between you. It’s not if you love Geoff or if he loves you. It’s since you love Geoff and since he loves you—what are you going to do now?”
Harper finished talking and they both sat in silence as people entered and exited the quaint bookshop.
“Nothing to say?” Harper broke the silence first.
“No, I think you said it all.”
“Are you mad?”
“No. Have we ever been mad at each other?” Jillian sipped her now-tepid coffee. “You gave me a lot to think about.”
“Well, here’s something else to think about.” Harper leaned forward. “So far you’ve taught Geoff that you run when you’re hurting, Jillian.”
Her words made Jillian wince. “I heard you the first time you said that.”
“Maybe it’s time to teach him that you’ll stay and fight for your marriage. Show him that you love him enough to fight for him.”
Jillian swallowed another gulp of coffee, wishing she’d tossed the remnants in the nearby trash can instead.
“Are you mad at me now?” Harper reached out and touched Jillian’s arm.
“No. I’ve been mad at so many people. Geoff. Johanna. Myself. Even God. I don’t want to add you to the list.”
“It’s okay if you are.”
“I’m not. I’m just . . . tired. And disappointed. And trying to figure out what to do next.” She shook her cup, the liquid sloshing against the sides. “I thought choosing faith would mean more, not less.”
“I don’t know anything about faith, but could it be a different kind of more than what you expected?”
“How so?”
“Maybe you were hoping for one thing, but you’re going to get something else?”
“Maybe. It’s worth considering, right?” Jillian offered Harper a small smile. “Look at you, encouraging me to believe in God.”
“Hey, I’m encouraging you to stay with your husband. And your faith is important to you, too. I don’t understand it. But if there is a God out there somewhere, never let it be said I convinced you to give up on Him.”
“Hedging your bets?”
“This is about you, not me, Jillian.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that.” Maybe, just maybe, both she and Harper would think differently about God in the months to come.
17
I DIDN’T LIKE THE MALL. Ever. Online shopping was easier. No crowds. No searching for a parking space. No lurking salespeople determined to ply me with clothes I didn’t want to try on.
And Park Meadows mall on a Friday night? I’d rather show up at work on a Monday morning and be told the hospital’s computer system wasn’t working. The brief drive from work had been slowed down by a fender bender, and then I’d cruised the parking lot for a good five minutes in search of a parking space.
But tonight’s visit was an unavoidable compromise. This was the most neutral location I could think of for a meeting with Beckett. Weaving in and out of the constant flow of people would definitely cut down on personal interaction with him.
“This is not quite what I had in mind when I asked to get together.” Beckett stood a respectful two steps behind me as we rode the escalator down to the bottom level.
“We didn’t have to meet at all.” I tossed the words over my shoulder.
“I realize that. I just thought maybe we could have dinner.”
“I told you I was not doing dinner with you.” I stepped off the escalator, turning my back on the entrance to Dillard’s. “If you want to talk, you can talk while we walk around the mall.”
There was no need to tell him I’d come early and indulged in a soft pretzel topped with yellow mustard. It should hold me until after we were done, and then I’d get the baby a nice slice of Chocolate Tuxedo Cream cheesecake. Maybe visit the tea shop in the mall first. If I was going to be drinking tea for weeks to come, I needed to splurge on some new flavors.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
“Everything’s good with the pregnancy?”
I almost started to say it was none of his business, but after agreeing to meet with Beckett, it was implied I’d be willing to talk with him.
“Yes, the pregnancy is fine, too.” Talking to him didn’t mean he had to know everything. Dr. Gray wasn’
t concerned about the placenta previa, which meant I wasn’t concerned. And this was probably going to be the last time I talked to Beckett during my pregnancy, so there was no need to concern him, either.
The mall was crowded with teens, families, and an overwhelming number of couples. Holding hands. Laughing. Walking with their arms draped over each other’s shoulders or around each other’s waists.
There was no denying Beckett and I looked like a couple—married or not. We looked like a couple expecting a baby together. And we were, but we weren’t together. This wasn’t a fun night out where we’d shop for baby clothes, all the while talking about possible names. Beckett didn’t even know I was having a girl.
His daughter.
Yet another couple passed by, the husband pushing a stroller. I caught a glimpse of a tiny face with bright eyes and chubby cheeks. The mom held the hand of a toddler who wore a pair of black cowboy boots and seemed determined to hop on one foot all the way through the mall.
I suppose mall visits with my little girl were in my future, unless I could convince her that shopping online was more fun.
“I didn’t plan on having this conversation dodging a crowd.” Beckett’s voice tugged my attention back to him.
“What kind of conversation are you planning?” I stopped. Faced him, not caring that people had to go around us. “Because if it’s a ‘Let’s try again’ one, I can save you the words and both of us the time. Not going to happen.”
Beckett shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You’ve made that clear, Johanna.”
“Then what do you want?”
“To tell you that I’ve asked my boss to help me get a follow-on assignment here in the Springs.”
“Why?” I could only hope Beckett heard all the “I don’t care what you do” that I infused into that one word as I moved away from him.
“I told you why the last time we talked. I want to be involved in our baby’s life. And I meant it.”
“And I meant what I said, Beckett. We are not in a relationship—which means I’m raising this baby by myself.”