by Lea Nolan
“Why?” she asked, leaning away from the yellow cake that lay on the bed in front of her. Her pulse quickened just at its sight.
“Because I don’t get why you didn’t buy Twinkies instead.”
She shrugged, feigning calm. “Honestly, I wasn’t really thinking. I just grabbed what was there.” Literally.
“I believe that.” Jack apprised the Tink, turning it around. “It doesn’t look toxic.”
“I think it’s safe for human consumption.”
He bit down, chewing slowly. “Not bad. Though there’s way more sugar in this thing than is probably legal.” He popped the rest of it in his mouth, then washed it down with wine.
“Curiosity satisfied?” Raven asked, ignoring the temptation of the loaded sugar bomb at her side.
“Yeah, but I think I need more.” He pulled a second Tink from the box and ripped at the wrapper. “Aren’t you having one? The vanilla flavoring and yellow dye pairs well with the Bordeaux.”
She smiled. “I’ll pass.”
“Come on. You haven’t had dessert all weekend. One little cake won’t kill you.” His words sliced deeper than he could possibly imagine.
“I shouldn’t,” she said, more firmly.
He set the Tink on top of the box. His brow furrowed as if he had something difficult to say but wasn’t sure how. “You know, you say that a lot.”
“Say what?”
“‘I shouldn’t’ or ‘I can’t.’ And there’s an edge to your voice when I ask about eating something sweet.”
Damn. He’d noticed. “So?”
“So I wonder if there’s something behind that. You’re brilliant and accomplished, and you’ve got an amazing body. Nothing stops you, except when it comes to something as silly as dessert.”
“It’s not silly.” The words flew from her mouth with more force than she’d expected.
His expression softened. “It’s just a little snack cake.”
He had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s so much more than that,” she snapped.
Jack gently grasped her hand. “I don’t mean to upset you, and I’m only asking because I care, but do you have an eating disorder?”
“What?” She retreated, barely able to believe what she’d just heard.
“I once had an employee who had an unhealthy relationship with food. She bought a lot of junk food too, except she binged it.”
Raven winced. “God, no. I do not have an eating disorder.”
“So, I’m totally off base about your reaction to this Tink.” He reached for the yellow cake beside her and held it up in front of her.
“Get that away from me,” she cried, batting it from his hand.
Shit. If he’d harbored any doubts, that overreaction confirmed his suspicions.
Raven glared at the Tinks box. “Why did you bring that up here?”
“No, I really was curious how they tasted and thought we’d eat them together. But clearly, you want nothing to do with them, and I’m guessing, any of the other stuff in the kitchen. I just don’t understand why.”
She shook her head. “You can’t.”
No one could, which was why she’d never breathed a word of her terrible secret.
“I’d like to.”
“You won’t. And you’ll hate me.”
“That’s impossible.” His voice was soft and sympathetic.
“You will.” Her voice broke. God, she felt like she was losing her mind.
His hand caressed the side of her face. “How do you know if you don’t try? Help me understand.”
Jack’s touch was so warm and tender that it almost convinced her everything would be okay if she just unburdened herself. But some things were unforgivable. She’d learned that lesson young and would carry it the rest of her life. Still, she was weary from bearing the burden of her pain, grief, and guilt for twenty-four years on her own.
“Raven, please.” Jack squeezed her hand, urging her on.
She wasn’t sure if it was the kindness in his voice, the gentleness of his touch, or the way he’d made love to her, but something inside Raven shifted, diminished her resolve, and allowed her to trust him. He was offering her a lifeline, one she desperately needed.
Raven lifted her head and looked him square in the eye. “I killed my mother.”
Chapter 16
Jack shook his head, stunned horror etched on his face. “That can’t be true.”
“It is.” Her voice was as flat and cold as a sheet of ice.
“Raven, you were seven, and it was a car accident.”
“Which I caused. It was my fault.”
“How could that be?” He searched her gaze.
“Does it matter? I just told you I did something horrible that cost my mother her life. Because of me, my sisters grew up motherless. My father lost his wife and never married again. It’s the reason I’m so screwed up.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t see how a child could have caused so much damage. And I have no idea what this has to do with the Tinks.”
“Jesus.” Raven raked her fingers through her long, dark hair. She’d admitted her most closely held secret, and he’d basically called her a liar. “I don’t think I can do this.”
He clasped her hand. “No, don’t give up. I want to understand.”
The only way to do that was to reach into her memory and unlock the details of that terrible day. That required a strength she wasn’t sure she had. For more than two decades, Raven hadn’t told a soul what had really happened. People were so quick to accept that her mother had simply skidded off the side of the road that cold, rainy night. They never thought to ask why.
Raven looked into Jack’s eyes and saw his honest desire to comprehend what she’d gone through.
His grip tightened on her hand. “I’m here, Raven. There’s nothing you could say to make me hate you.”
A not-so-tiny part of her desperately wanted to believe that was true.
She drew a deep inhale and took the leap. “That morning, I woke up with a fever, and my throat was on fire. There were these lumps on both sides of my neck as big as gumballs. It hurt so bad, I could barely speak. When my mom realized I was sick, I thought she’d hold me and make it better like she usually did, but her forehead got all crinkly, and her mouth turned hard instead. She was so angry. I was scared and confused because I couldn’t think of what I’d done to make her so mad.
“After she put my sisters on the bus, we went to the doctor, and he said I had strep throat. Instead of coming home after we got my medicine, my mom said we were going on a trip to visit my aunt.
“We drove for hours. I was hungry, in pain, and probably really whiny. We stopped at a diner for lunch, and she ordered my favorite, grilled cheese, because it was soft. But it scratched my throat even worse, so I begged for some ice cream for dessert. She didn’t want me to get it because we needed to get back on the road. But my throat was blazing, so I poured it on extra thick, bawling with tears streaming down my cheeks until she caved and got me a sundae. I was so happy. That cold ice cream felt so good against my throat.
“After we finished, we got back on the road, but a short while later, we got stuck behind a huge accident. There were fire trucks, ambulances, police cars, and two helicopters. We were stuck there forever. My mom was so stressed out. She kept saying that if I hadn’t insisted on that damn sundae, we’d have missed the accident.
“When the road finally opened, it was raining, near dark, and we were already late to my aunt’s house. She kept trying to call her sister, but the phones weren’t great back then, and the service was spotty, so the calls wouldn’t go through, which only made my mother more stressed.
“By the time we got off the highway, it was pitch black, and the rain had picked up. She was snapping at everything. The other drivers who kept their high beams on, my father for not changing out her windshield wipers, the lack of streetlights. And she kept on about the sundae . . . and me.” Raven shuddered as her mother’s words echoed thr
ough her mind.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
Raven nodded. “Y-yeah.”
“What did she say?” he asked with trepidation.
Memories crashed over her, causing her throat to constrict. “That I was a selfish brat who only cared about myself.”
Jack stroked her arm. “Oh, Raven,” he said softly.
But Raven wasn’t finished. “She was so angry that I’d thrown that fit in the diner, and it caused her to have to drive in the dark and rain. She said, ‘It would be a miracle if that little stunt doesn’t get us both killed.’”
Jack’s face froze. “Oh, God. No.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “Not a minute later, the car skidded off the road and rolled down a hill into a stream filled with rocks. Turns out, my little stunt didn’t kill us both, just her. And as I waited for someone to find us and free me from my seat belt, I stared out the window at a covered bridge, listening to her last words echo in my mind.” Jack stared at her, his jaw agape. “That’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I knew you’d think I'm a monster.” Raven dropped her head in her hands and burst into tears.
“No.” Jack enveloped her in his arms and held her tight. “I’m horrified she said those things and that you believed them. Raven, none of that is your fault.”
“Of course, it is.” She wept against his bare chest.
“You were a child. It’s perfectly normal to want ice cream, sore throat or not.”
“If we’d left when she wanted, we would have missed the accident. She’d be alive today.”
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Maybe. Or you’d have gotten stuck behind a different one. Or been involved in one somewhere else. You have no idea what would’ve happened.”
She shook her head. “You weren’t in that car that night. She crashed because she was yelling at me.” A tear rolled down the side of her face.
Jack wiped it away with his thumb. “It was an accident. Accidents happen. People yell. They get distracted and stressed in unsafe conditions.”
Raven slid from his embrace, curled her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I understand everything you’re saying. Honestly, I do. But it doesn’t change the fact that I gave my mother a reason to yell at me in the first place. My throat hurt, but I did ham it up in that restaurant because I really wanted a sundae. That set off a chain reaction that, right or wrong, ended in her death. For that, I can’t forgive myself.”
She rested her head against her knees and wept silently, releasing twenty-four years’ worth of guilt and shame. All the while, Jack sat beside her, stroking her back, and offering what small comfort he could.
When the tears finally ceased, she rubbed her face with the long cotton sleeves of his T-shirt. “I’ve never told this to anyone.” Her voice was thick and raspy.
“Not even your sisters?”
She shook her head. “Especially them.”
“They wouldn’t blame you.”
“You don’t know that. You’ve never even met Wren. She’s a badass lawyer.”
“I know Lark. She’d see it for what it was. A tragic accident.”
Raven scoffed. “You hate your father because you think his crimes contributed to your mom’s cancer. They’ll blame me. I was in that car.”
Jack’s expression shifted, telling her she’d struck a nerve. Rather than continuing to debate her, he nodded to the Tink on the bedspread. “So, the sweets remind you of that sundae.”
She nodded. “Yes. Basically, anything that could be a dessert.”
“Why buy them?”
Shifting her position, she lay down on her right side and faced him. “Sometimes it’s to torture myself. If things are going a little too well, I make a batch of cookies or buy a box of something decadent, then don’t eat any to remind myself of what I did. This weekend was different. I was in a low place and craved comfort. When I was young, sweets did that for me. So when I went into that convenience store, my resolve crumbled and I bought all that stuff. But it can never give me comfort. It brings back that horrible night and my guilt over what I did.”
“And then I kept offering you sweets. I’m so sorry.” Jack lay down beside her.
“You had no idea.”
“I could’ve been more sensitive.”
The silence stretched out between them. Raven could see Jack mulling something over in his mind. “What is it?”
“I’m just wondering if your not dating is like the thing with the sweets.”
That was a ball lobbed straight from left field. “What do you mean?”
“Well, are you depriving yourself of dessert and relationships?”
She had a visceral need to bat the suggestion away. “No, definitely not. The no dating thing is totally separate. It’s about my job taking priority.”
“Because you said your father didn’t remarry after your mom died, so I thought maybe there could be a connection. You know, he didn’t date. You don’t.”
Why was Jack pushing this ridiculous theory? She had to shut it down now.
“My mom’s death broke my dad, but that’s different. He was really into his career. Just like me. It’s about the only way we were alike.”
Jack nodded. “Okay.” But he looked like he had more on his mind.
“What?” Raven asked.
“What if he chose not to remarry because he felt guilty about your mom’s death?”
That made no sense. “Why would he have felt guilty? He wasn’t there.”
“Exactly. Maybe he wished he were so that he could’ve stopped the accident. Or maybe he felt guilty about why she took that trip. Who knows? There could be a million reasons. But survivor’s guilt is a powerful thing. Look what it’s done to you. Maybe you and your dad shared more than you think.”
“Survivor’s guilt.” The phrase hit her like a thunderbolt. She’d never considered herself an accident survivor; she was the cause.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right.”
Or was that uneasy sensation in her gut a sign it was a perfect fit?
With a small smile, Jack brushed a stray lock of hair off her brow with light fingertips. “Maybe it’s just bullshit.”
“Yeah, probably.” Although she was too emotionally raw to know for sure. Raven flipped over onto her left side, then backed into Jack.
He pulled her close. “You’re a good person, Raven. You deserve to be happy.”
The words swelled her heart. She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. Instead, she linked her fingers with his and squeezed tight.
Soon, his breath deepened and slowed. He was asleep. But Raven was too wired to join him.
Gently, she slid from Jack’s grasp, finished dressing, and went downstairs. Brilla followed her to the living room, hopped onto the sofa, and curled up at her feet. Raven scratched the dog’s wooly fur as she gazed out into the black night. The silver moon shone bright, reflecting off the ocean, and the stars glistened in the sky.
Raven pulled the afghan over her lap and considered the questions that had been looping through her mind since Jack had posed them. Did her decision not to date have anything to do with her mother’s death? Was it a result of survivor’s guilt?
On the surface, it seemed clear. Work was her priority, so relationships were out.
But Jack had asked her to consider seeing him, and she’d declined. If ever there was a time to date, this would be it. She was unemployed, free for the foreseeable future, thanks to her non-compete agreement and generous compensation package. There were no timelines, due dates, or deliverables. If she didn’t want to look for a job in a different field, she didn’t need to. She could afford to wait the year and go back to what she did best.
Jack was an ideal candidate. Tonight, he’d made love to her. It was the first time in her life she’d felt that soul-deep connection. He’d helped her open up in ways no man—no person—had ever done before.
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br /> So why then, after all that, did she insist that dating Jack was out? That all dating was out?
Was it related to the accident?
Her father had chosen not to remarry after her mother’s death. Until recently, Raven and her sisters believed he’d never dated. But Wren had learned their father had a secret affair with Smith’s mother, Madeline, that ended because he didn’t want his daughters to think he was replacing their mother. But was there more to it? Did he harbor guilt over her death, and did it cause him to miss out on a second chance at love?
Until now, Raven had assumed she and her father had only their work ethic in common. They were both academically inclined, singularly focused, and prioritized their careers.
But maybe she and her father were more alike than she’d realized. Maybe they’d both been so damaged by her mother’s death that they were too afraid to risk loving, and losing, again.
The truth of that notion resonated deeply in her chest. The more she thought about it, the more intensely it reverberated. This was a seismic revelation that reordered everything she thought she knew about herself and her life.
She wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. She had a lot to think about.
Chapter 17
“How are you with a chainsaw?” Hunter asked Jack when he stopped by the volunteer tent on Main Street the next morning.
“Fair to middling. But I’m a good listener, and I like all my fingers, so I won’t do anything stupid.”
“Good enough.” Hunter pointed him in the direction of Garvey Tuckman’s waiting pickup truck.
An hour earlier, Jack had awoken alone in Raven’s bed but was smart enough not to take it personally.
Their conversation last night had been heavy, and she’d grappled with some pretty fierce demons that could break even the toughest of men. He hoped he’d been supportive and said all the right things, but there was no manual for grief or blame. He might have easily harmed her as he’d helped. What seemed obvious to him—that her mother’s death was a tragic accident—wasn’t to Raven. But he wasn’t in that car. He wasn’t that seven-year-old. If Raven needed some time and space to think things through, so be it.