The Text God: Text and You Shall Receive ... (An Accidentally in Love Story Book 2)

by Whitney Dineen

  I let out a single sob, grab a pint of ice cream, then take it back to bed, where I stay for two more days.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Gabe

  “You couldn’t have just gone to Staples like a normal person?” Terrell asks as the two of us stare at the antique cherrywood executive desk waiting in the back of the U-Haul. We’re going to have to unload it, then somehow manage to get it up the narrow staircase to my new office. I bought it at an estate auction in Brooklyn, along with matching bookcases that scream old-timey law office. It was love at first sight, kind of like with a certain artist/waitress who still isn’t talking to me. My mom said Jen called in sick most of last week, which really worries me.

  It’s early evening now and she’s probably at the pub, rushing around serving customers. I totally miss her. As excited as I am to be starting my real life, the way we left things is eating away at me.

  I’ve been distracting myself the last few days by scrubbing the heck out of this place. I’ve even put on two fresh coats of paint in a white that Ciara told me to get because it’s “the perfect classic white,” whatever that means. I’m totally energized until Jen pops into my mind, which is every few minutes. Then it’s like a punch to the gut that I have to shake off.

  The door to the bakery opens, allowing the scent of fresh bread to escape along with a woman with a toddler on her hip. I probably should have opted for the huge, expensive office because, between the bakery smells and the waitress across the street, this place is going to have me in Longingsville the entire day.

  “How’d you get that thing in the truck?” Terrell asks, pointing at my fancy new-to-me furniture. He’s still in his suit, having come straight from the office when his workday ended to help me out. Now, that’s a good friend.

  “They had guys to help me load it,” I say, scratching my head. “But we’ve got this, right? We’re a couple of manly men.” Glancing at him, I add, “Well, I am anyway.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Terrell says, “That’s not how you need to play this if you want me to risk a hernia for you.”

  “If a guy gets it, it’s called a himnia,” I say, then chuckle at my own joke.

  “That’s just sad, man,” he tells me. “You’re starting the dad jokes already and you don’t even have a girlfriend.”

  “Yooohooo!” my mom calls across the street. “Hello, neighbor!!! And Terrell! Come give me some love! Both of you!”

  I close my eyes for a second, then Terrell and I do the whole hurry-and-wait thing so we can jaywalk through the traffic to the pub. “Hi, Mom.”

  Ignoring me, she gives Terrell a big kiss on his cheek. “How are you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Don’t tell the old man, but my offer to run away with you is still on the table.”

  Terrell chokes out a laugh while I groan, “Moommmm! No.”

  “What? Everyone enjoys a good compliment,” she says, squeezing Terrell’s biceps like she’s deciding which melon to buy. “Still out fighting the good fight, are you?”

  “Yup, I tried to get this guy on my team down at the office, but he wanted to go it alone.”

  The front door opens and my dad pops his head out. “Mary, I’m busier than a one-armed paper hanger. Stop molesting the lad and get back in here.” He pauses and says, “Hello, Terrell. Sorry about my pervy wife.”

  “Hi, Mr. Daly.”

  My dad pulls back his head and points one finger at Terrell. “Ah! What did I say about that Mr. Daly business?”

  “Right. Sorry, Joe.”

  Through the window, I watch Jen rushing over to a booth carrying a tray of beers. My heart squeezes at the sight of her. I ask my mom, “Can I borrow a dolly from you guys?”

  “Of course, love,” she answers while looping her arm through Terrell’s and leading us inside. “You’re probably starving. Do you want some stew or fish and chips, maybe?”

  “Maybe later,” I say. “I need to get the U-Haul moved before I get a ticket.”

  “Righto,” she answers.

  On my way through the door, I nearly bump into Jen who’s now carrying a tray with four bowls of stew. “Oops, sorry,” I tell her.

  “That’s fine,” she mumbles, then keeps going without making eye contact.

  My heart sinks like a piano in a swimming pool as I hurry to the storage room for the dolly. When I come back out, she’s taking an order and doesn’t bother to look up from her customers the entire time it takes me to get to the front door. Crap. I really blew it. With a lot of help from Alexis, who shall now be known as Devil Woman.

  It takes nearly two hours to get all of my office furniture upstairs and set up. I ended up recruiting a couple of guys eating at the pub to help us get the desk up there by offering to pay their tab. Totally worth it. By the time we’re done, I’m drenched in sweat and Terrell’s so annoyed with me, I’m not sure we’re still friends. Well, at least for the rest of the evening. “Can I buy you dinner and all the beer you can drink” I ask him.

  “That would be a good start.”

  Smiling, I tell him, “You head over to the pub. I’ll lock up and move the truck into my parents’ loading zone.

  A few minutes later, I walk in the back door of the tavern and to get washed up before finding Terrell sitting at a booth by the window. The dinner rush is over but there’s still a good drinking crowd watching soccer on the TVs while The Dubliners play over the speakers. As soon as I sit down, Jen walks up with a pad and pencil in hand. “What can I get for you?”

  “Hi Jen, this is my friend, Terrell,” I say.

  She gives him a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  Then, letting her smile fade, she turns back to me, ice coming from her eyes. “Would you like a beer to start with?”

  “You know what? You’re busy, I’ll help myself.”

  She closes the pad and says, “Sounds good.”

  With that, she walks away. My gut tightens as Terrell gives me the Oh man! She is MAD! look.

  Not wanting to talk about it, I slide out of the booth. “Water and a beer?” I ask him.

  He nods, seeming to know enough not to ask me what’s going on.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jen

  Mary told me that Gabe was renting an office across the street, which isn’t exactly going to make it easier to forget about him. My emotions have been run through the wringer ever since I met him, and I’m not sure how much more I can handle.

  My giant black painting is a constant reminder that all is not right with my world right now. Yes, I sold two paintings, and I have a survival job that I love, but I still can’t shake this malingering sadness that fills me. Also, I seem to have lost any artistic skills I once had—see the giant black painting for proof.

  I’m doing the best I can to ignore Gabe tonight, but against my wishes, my eyes are drawn to him. He looks tired, scruffy, and dirty, so why do I find that so darn attractive? Pull yourself together, Jen.

  Mary gently nudges my arm. “You look like your potatoes are popping up.”

  What does that mean? I give her a look that asks as much.

  “You look like your thoughts are breeding thoughts and you can’t see your way through them.”

  Nodding my head, I confirm, “I’m having thoughts.”

  “About my Byrne, no doubt,” she says in a very assured manner.

  “It’s bigger than man trouble, Mary,” I tell her.

  “Out with it. Let me help.”

  My shoulders collapse as a heaviness overcomes me. “My whole life, I’ve always been so optimistic and so driven—in spite of the fact that, most of the time, life hands me rotten lemons. That was my thing—I was the girl who made the best of anything, I saw the good in everyone. I had hope. But all of that seems to be gone now, and I’m scared I won’t be able to get it back. But also, I’m not sure if I want to get it back because maybe life will be easier if I expect the worst. I won’t get disappointed so often.”

&nb
sp; “Sometimes life can overwhelm you and you forget who you are at your core. I remember going through something a lot like this when we first came over from God’s Country. When we were on our way over here, I was so sure America would be the answer to all my prayers. A fresh start, a chance to give our kids more than they’d known back home. But when we got here, everything was so fast-paced and different. I barely knew how to get around with the subway and the buses and all with two wains at my hip.” I can tell by the look on her face, she’s gone back there in her mind. “Joe got a job at a roofing company so we could save up to buy, well, this place, as it turns out. He was gone from dawn until after dusk every day and he hated it. He hates heights. And I hated the thought of him up there all day. It scared the bejeezus out of me. I was young and so alone, and absolutely positive that we’d made the biggest mistake of our lives moving here.”

  “What changed that?”

  “Joe did. He came home one night, tired and smelling like a sweaty man, burnt to a crisp from working on a roof all day in the hot sun. And we were as broke as a wagon with three wheels. Not a wheelbarrow, mind you, but the type that should have four, you know.”

  I nod so she doesn’t get sidetracked any farther.

  “But he was whistling, of all things.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “And by God, it made me mad because I hadn’t been in a good mood for weeks. I demanded to know just what in the blazes he had to be whistling about. And do you know what he said?”

  I shake my head.

  “He said, ‘Because I’ve got you and Ciara and Byrne to come home to every night, how could I not be as happy as a dog with two tails?’”

  As sweet as that story is, it really doesn’t help me at all. “That’s nice,” I tell her.

  Mary rubs the back of her neck, then tips her head from side to side like she’s got a headache. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “No, I think I do. Joe was whistling because he had a family he loved. But I don’t have that, Mary. In fact, other than my grandparents, I’ve never had a family that ever seemed to love me. If they did, they certainly never accepted me for who I am.”

  “But you will. I know that as sure as I’m sitting here with you when I should be clearing tables.” She pats me on the hand. “Everyone goes through a low point in life that makes ’em think there’s nothing but grey skies ahead.” She leans closer like she’s about to share a big secret. “I have a feeling you’re going to find it if you go in Byrne’s direction. He could help you see the sun again. Of that, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think he and I are as compatible as I thought.”

  “And why not?”

  “Just a feeling,” I say, not wanting to tell her he called me a nut or that I caught him with a naked Alexis. The last thing I want is a big scene, and I’m relatively certain that’s what would happen if I said anything. “I just don’t think we have all that much in common.”

  I glance over Mary’s shoulder and see Gabe on his way to the bar with two empty beer steins, probably to refill them.

  “I better clear table four.” I grab an empty tray, the spray bottle, and a rag, and scoot in the opposite direction.

  I manage to avoid Gabe for the rest of the evening. I’m guessing he’s fine with that because when he and his friend leave, he doesn’t say goodbye. He drops a twenty on the table before he goes, which is ridiculous because I didn’t even serve him. I give the money to Mary and say, “Your son left this behind.”

  “Darlin’,” she says, “that’s called a tip. It’s for you.”

  “You keep it,” I tell her before taking off my apron and adding, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She winces a little and shuts her eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just a headache is all. I’ll be fine when I get off my bunions.”

  I laugh and give her a quick hug before I walk out the door into the still-warm evening. I don’t get far before Joe comes running out after me.

  “Jenny, come back! And please hurry!” He sounds panicked.

  I turn around and run back into the pub, only to see Mary laid out on the ground. “What happened?” I ask while hurrying to her side.

  “I don’t know. I heard her call out and then there was a crashing sound. She was already on the ground when I got to her side.”

  The whole time he’s talking, he’s gently patting his wife’s hand.

  Pulling out my phone, I call 911 and tell the operator what’s going on. She asks questions like, “Is she breathing? Can she hear you? Is she bleeding?”

  I answer as best as I can while Joe’s face turns pale and scared. “Yes, she’s breathing but very shallowly. She appears to be totally unconscious, and there’s blood pouring out of a gash in her head where she probably hit it on the bar.”

  I put the 911 operator on speaker and start to carry out her orders. “Get a clean wrap and apply pressure to her head. Elevate her neck slightly so she doesn’t choke in case there’s any internal bleeding.” And finally, “Hang tight, the ambulance will be there soon.”

  Joe and I sit quietly, cradling Mary and following the dispatcher’s instructions while we wait. Mary is always a blur of activity, and this complete lack of animation makes her look so unlike herself I barely recognize her.

  Looking at Joe, I see tears pouring down his cheeks. “She’s my world,” he says. “My whole world.” Then he starts to kiss her face and beg, “Mary, love, wake up, won’t you? Come back to your Joe. I need you darlin’. Please.”

  The ambulance arrives a few minutes later and fear floods my body while I watch the two paramedics get to work. In no time, they have Mary strapped to a gurney and are wheeling her out. She looks so small and pale lying there like that, almost as if she’s not really here anymore.

  Joe looks at me and hands me the keys. “Jen, love, I’m going to ride with her. Can you lock up? Oh, and call Ciara and Byrne for me.” Then he asks one of the paramedics, “Which hospital?”

  “Mount Sinai West,” comes the quick reply, and then they’re gone.

  I stand on the street and watch the ambulance drive away in complete shock. Mary was just offering me her sage advice about life and love and now she’s on her way to the hospital. I walk numbly back into the bar, locking the door after me.

  Looking around the vacant room that’s come to feel like my second home, I open my mouth and pray, “Dear God, I’m not sure what kind of terms you and I are on, but I really do need a favor right now. I need you to stick close to Mary’s side and make her well again. Please. Joe needs her, her kids need her, and darn it, I need her. So please, if you never answer another one of my prayers again, I really need this one.”

  I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand and pull out my phone. I have to call Gabe and tell him what happened.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Gabe

  My phone rings and my first thought is that I hope it’s Jen. My second is that it can’t be Jen. She wouldn’t even look at me at the pub, making it improbable that she changed her mind in the last couple of hours. I mute the TV and grab my phone off the coffee table, and my heart swells when I see her name. Finally, a chance to fix everything. I hope. “Hello?”

  “Gabe, it’s Jen,” she says in a shaky voice. “Your dad asked me to call you. Mary fell and hit her head. We couldn’t get her to wake up, so we called 911. They’ve taken her to Mount Sinai West.”

  My mouth goes completely dry as my pulse starts to race. My mind fills with a desperate need to know every detail, as if knowing will somehow fix things. “How? When?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. I didn’t see what happened. I’d just left when your dad came rushing out to get me,” she says in a high-pitched tone. “She must have hit her head really hard because she has a bad gash on her forehead.”

  I stand up and rush to the front door, grabbing my keys and wallet, and sliding on a pair of loafers. I’m halfway down the hal
l by the time Jen finishes explaining how the ambulance got there right away and that my dad went with my mom. I push the down button on the elevator over and over, even though I know it won’t help.

  “Your dad asked me to call your sister, but I don’t know her number.”

  “I’ll call her.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Jen says. “Gabe? Do you mind if I come to the hospital? I know I’m not family, but—”

  “Of course, we want you there,” I say, letting out a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally open.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she says before we disconnect.

  Once I get to the sidewalk and have decent reception, I call Ciara. She sounds sleepy when she answers, but as soon as I tell her what’s going on, she’s on alert and full of questions I can’t answer. “Patrick’s on the night shift tonight, so I’m going to run next door and see if Mrs. Stein can come over and stay with the kids.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll handle everything and keep you updated, if you can’t get there,” I say while hailing a cab.

  “Byrne, do you think …” She lets out a sob in place of finishing her sentence.

  “Mom’s a fighter, Ciara. No matter what’s wrong, she’s going to beat it.”

  Hanging up, I get into the cab that’s pulled up. After telling the cabbie my destination, I sit helplessly in the backseat as we wind our way through traffic. I close my eyes and, for the first time since I was a kid, I start to pray.

  ***

  I rush through the emergency doors and up to the desk, looking around for my dad, but I don’t see him. A tired-looking nurse looks up from some paperwork and says, “How can I help you?”

  “My mom was just brought in by ambulance. Mary Daly.”

  She checks the chart and tells me to go have a seat which is the last thing I want to do. “Is she okay?” I demand.

  “I don’t know. She just got here a few minutes ago. They’re running some tests on her now.”

  “My dad came with her. Is there any chance I can see him?” I ask, running a hand through my hair.