by Beth Flynn
She looked at me with sympathy lodged in her soulful eyes that were set back in the deep crevices of her lined face. “Your granddaddy and I were best friends. Much like you and that Pritchard boy. We had tough upbringings and found comfort in our mutual misery. It never got romantic-like with us, but we were there for each other. That’s how I know so much about him. But those stories are for another day,” she added wistfully. “If the good Lord sees fit to keep me around.” She shifted in the rocking chair. “What you came here to find out is true. But I needed to tell you the whole truth. And now you know it. Your father wasn’t an Anderson and neither is that gnat you call a sister.”
“I had no clue,” I said, stunned beyond belief. “I don’t have a lot of memories of my grandfather and father interacting, but the ones I do have were always heartwarming.”
“Fred Anderson loved that boy as his own,” Dicey said, her hardened vocal cords taking on a dreamlike quality. “He never once treated him like anything other than his blood kin. Even loved him more than I see some fathers love their sons if you ask me.” She raised her chin higher. “And Fred told me that should there ever come a day when you asked, I needed to tell you the truth. He managed to keep that witch’s pie hole closed while he was alive. He never laid a hand on her but she afeard him all the same. Your granddaddy could be a formidable man. Stern, but always fair. I guess you already figured out that he put the deed to the property in your name as a secondary means to scare her into keeping the truth hidden. He never wanted you hurt and never wanted you to think you weren’t wanted or loved.”
I smiled, letting warm memories of my grandfather wash over me. “He was my hero. Even more so after Kenny ran away. He died right before I graduated high school. Almost like he knew it was okay to leave me after I’d earned my scholarships and was accepted to college.”
Dicey grunted in agreement before continuing. “Fred always said that you and your daddy were more Anderson than Juanita and Fancy could ever hope to be.” She thumped her heart with a gnarled hand. “Andersons are connected by the heart, not the blood. And I ain’t seen anybody with more heart than your granddaddy. He even let himself love that shrew of a woman until she started showing her hateful self at your daddy’s new wife and then at you.”
After thanking Granny Dicey and promising to come back for a visit without my medical bag in tow, I kissed her forehead and walked out to the car with Darlene. Her uncle passed us in his rickety old truck as we pulled away. “Anna Claire is bringing your supper over tonight!” Darlene yelled out my window as she leaned over me. He replied with a thumbs-up.
We’d turned onto the main road when I felt Darlene’s hand lightly caress my shoulder. “Barbie?”
I looked over at her and smiled. “I’m okay, Darlene. I promise. And before you ask me, the answer is no. I don’t want to know who my biological father is. As misguided as it was, at least I know why my grandmother despised me. And whether you choose to believe me or not, I’m telling you there is peace in knowing the truth. I believe what Granny Dicey said about my grandfather telling her I was more Anderson than my grandmother and Fancy could ever hope to be.”
“I’m so glad to hear that, Barbara Jean.” Her use of my full name told me she was serious.
“And I’m going to fight Fancy, Darlene. I’m not giving her a dime.”
“Good girl!” came her exuberant reply.
“And it’s not about the money, Dar.”
“I know it’s not, Barbie.”
Darlene turned on my radio and found her favorite station. Waylon Jennings was warning mothers everywhere not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys. Darlene and I sang at the tops of our lungs along with him. To my disappointment, she turned down a Trisha Yearwood classic to ask me about Jake.
“He texted me when I was in New York and asked if he could make me dinner at his place. Of course I had to tell him no because I wasn’t here.”
She gave a small nod of assent, and a glimmer of approval was in her eyes.
“It’s almost time for my shift. You can drop me at the gas station on your way home,” she informed me.
I recognized Jake’s truck at the pumps. He’d left it unattended and was coming out of the station carrying a fountain drink. I knew it was a Dr. Pepper and felt a tug of satisfaction in knowing a silly but intimate detail about him. After parking and getting out of the car, Darlene and I met up with him at his truck.
We made some small talk where Darlene subtly alluded to me having a bit of a bad day. I told her she was making a bigger deal out of it than was necessary. I couldn’t explain why, but I had a feeling of peace that I’d never had before. If anything, there was a sense of relief in knowing why I’d always been on the receiving end of my grandmother’s nasty stick.
“It’s probably not a good time to ask for a favor.” Jake had finished putting on his gas cap as he leaned up against the truck.
“I’m fine. What do you need?” I asked with a smile.
“Think if I stopped by your place later you could take out my stitches?”
“Absolutely. It’s time for them to come out anyway.”
We picked a convenient time, said our goodbyes, and I hopped into my Jeep. Who’d have believed with the day I’d had that the prospect of removing Jake’s sutures would make me smile the entire drive home.
Chapter 25
Relax and Let Yourself Enjoy the Ride, Sweetheart
Once home, I unpacked my bag, changed into a pair of jeans and a comfy blouse, and took my mail out to the front porch. I made some calls and arranged to meet with a couple of subcontractors about my renovation. I must’ve lost track of time because before I knew it, the familiar rumble of a motorcycle caught my attention. Jake pulled up to my house, parked, and made his way up the porch steps.
“C’mon inside,” I told him as I jumped up from my chair. “My bag is in the kitchen.” I walked toward the front door. Before I could reach for the doorknob, he grabbed my hand and gently yanked me to him. I looked up into his eyes and noticed a glint of mischief in their depths. I felt a jolt of adrenaline when I thought he was going to kiss me. I tried to play it cool and tilted my head slightly to the side. When he didn’t make a move, I shifted uncomfortably and asked, “What?”
He started to raise his shirt and said, “You might want to take a look first.”
I cast my eyes downward and frowned. “Where are your stitches?”
“I took them out yesterday,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.
I placed my hands on my hips. “Then why did you ask me to take them out when I saw you at the gas station?”
“I wanted an excuse to see you.”
A breeze wafted up onto the porch, bringing with it his sharp, masculine scent. I bit my lip to hide my smile. “I’m glad,” I admitted.
He walked down the steps to his bike and bent low to retrieve something from one of his leather saddle bags. I followed him, and he handed me a helmet I recognized. My mouth must’ve been hanging open because he said, “Let’s go for a ride before the weather gets too cold.”
I shook my head. “I can’t get on the back of a motorcycle.”
“Yes, you can, Barbie. I won’t take you far. I’ll drive slow and promise I’ll be more than careful.”
My brain said not to do it, but my heart wanted to give it a try. I grabbed Dolly’s helmet out of his hands and asked, “I guess she gave this to you when you made it clear you weren’t interested?”
He pointed to a scuff mark on the left side and said, “She threw it at my head and missed.”
I was still hesitant so he offered, “We’ll make it a short ride. Wanna grab some supper at Crossroads Diner?”
After changing my shirt and shoes, I carefully climbed on the back of his bike. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I grumbled as I tightly clutched him from behind.
He wrestled my right hand from the death grip that was fastened to his shirt. Bringing it to his mouth, he lightly kissed the inside of my wris
t and said, “Relax and let yourself enjoy the ride, sweetheart.”
I didn’t release my vise-grip hold until we’d left my dirt road behind and were riding on smooth pavement. I found myself relaxing then, enjoying the warm breeze, the solid form I was nestled against, and the momentary freedom from responsibility. Jake was true to his word. He didn’t drive too fast, was cautious around cars and trucks, and didn’t try to show off or impress me with unnecessary antics. I rested my chin on his shoulder and shouted, “You should be wearing a helmet!”
I saw his left cheek tug upward in a grin as we pulled into the diner. Darlene waved from her perch behind the gas station counter, a mile-long grin spreading across her face.
He helped me off the bike. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was kind of fun,” I reluctantly admitted as I stretched my legs.
We took a booth in the back and ordered two blue plate specials. I asked for a sweet tea, and he ordered water. We spent the next ten minutes talking about my reservations concerning motorcycles. I told him about some of the injuries I’d treated as a result of careless drivers. He agreed and thanked me for giving him a chance to prove himself a responsible one. We both concurred that it was only as safe as other drivers allowed. “Not everyone respects a motorcycle,” he told me. “It’s up to me to have my guard up when sharing the road.”
He asked me about my trip to New York. I told him the boring details, leaving out my short time with Dr. Gil Saunders. He asked if I wanted to talk more about Fancy’s revelation, as well as Granny Dicey’s confirmation that I wasn’t an Anderson. He remained quiet when I told him I was fine, and I liked that he believed me and didn’t push it. Our conversation circled back to my trip, and I had him laughing so hard I thought he might tear his newly closed wound. We’d been talking about airline travel, and he’d asked me the worst part of the trip. I told him it was the hour I spent on the tarmac listening to the ninety-eight-year-old gentleman next to me give a dissertation on the emotional and physical benefits of making love with an up-and-coming centenarian.
“Why didn’t you put your headphones on or pick up a magazine?” he asked me, his face red from laughing.
“I didn’t want to be rude. Besides, he wouldn’t stop talking. Never even took a breath.” I took a sip of my tea and set my glass down.
“Did you eventually blow him off?”
“I didn’t have to.” I rolled my eyes. “He finally excused himself so he could go to the restroom and empty his catheter bag.”
Jake spit his water across the table following my last comment. “Sounds like a real Casanova,” he managed to say while wiping his chin.
The rest of our time together passed quickly. We laughed, we shared stories from Hampton House, he told me a little more about his childhood, and I shared a little more about mine.
“The pocket watch,” he said after he’d signaled the waitress for our check. “You told me there was a pocket watch that was important to you. What did you mean?”
I exhaled slowly. “It was something my grandfather gave me. It was a broken old watch handed down by generations of Andersons. It was battered and probably not worth much. But it was special. It was permanently stopped on nine nineteen.” I was staring at my empty plate and raised my eyes to meet his.
“Granddaddy always said it was a lucky watch. Every Anderson that carried it managed to avert some disaster. He’d regretted that he’d never gotten around to giving it to my father. I guess he felt it had some kind of magical powers that could’ve saved his life. It’s why he gave it to me when I was just twelve.” I swallowed and sat up. “Anyway, I gave it to Kenny right before I left for summer camp. We’d shared what I guess you would call a special moment the night before—at least it was special to me. I gave him the watch for safekeeping. Proof of my love. Proof that I would come back from camp and we would pick up where we’d left off.” I looked away shyly.
“You gave him your virginity that night.” Jake’s voice was barely a whisper.
My eyes darted back to his. “Yes, and it’s not easy for me to admit considering how young and irresponsible I was back then. We didn’t use protection.” I took a big breath. “It was a big moment for both of us. Anyway, I thought it was.”
“Being irresponsible is understandable. Like you said, you were both young. Vulnerable.”
I sat facing him, shoulders hunched. “That’s when I gave him my most valued possession to validate my love for him. My granddaddy’s watch.” I paused. “I thought he would’ve left it for me before he ran away. When I saw on Kenny’s rap sheet that he had a tattoo of one on his right arm...” My voice faded as I tried to gather my thoughts.
Sensing my sadness, Jake asked, “How did it end that night?”
“Not good.” I looked up at him and could feel the heat making its way up my neck. “The worst possible thing happened.”
Jake didn’t say anything as I took another swallow of tea. “His father caught us right in the middle of round two. Jonathan was asleep in the bedroom they’d shared, and we were buck naked on the living room floor. It was his father’s regular drinking night with his buddies, but he got home early and caught us. We never heard him drive up.”
Jake sat back and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Whew. What did he do? Rough him up? Threaten to tell your grandparents?”
“No,” I replied, my voice monotone and lifeless. “It was worse than that.”
Jake raised an eyebrow.
“He stood over us with his hands on his hips while we scrambled for our clothes.”
“And?”
“He just laughed. Not a funny ‘ha, I caught you’ laugh. Not even an embarrassed laugh.”
I shivered when I remembered the humiliation of that night almost forty years earlier. And how I couldn’t even begin to describe to Jake or erase from my memory the most evil, maniacal, bellowing laugh I’d ever heard.
Chapter 26
He’s Not Worth It
The sun was setting, and Jake insisted on having me home before it got dark. I appreciated the gesture but couldn’t help but wonder the entire ride home if he was ever going to ask me again to dinner at his place like he had when I was in New York. We dismounted from his bike, I took off the helmet and started to hand it to him when he waved it off and said, “You keep it. I don’t plan on having anybody else on the back of my bike that’ll need it.” I tucked it under my arm and headed for my porch, not wanting him to see the smile that was causing my cheeks to burn.
I could feel his presence behind me as I marched up the steps. He exuded raw masculinity that was intoxicating, and I had to remind myself that we weren’t exactly a couple. I was pondering the exact nomenclature that might describe our relationship when I felt his warm hand pressed against my back. I’d been getting ready to retrieve my keys from my front pocket but stopped and slowly turned to him. He brought both hands up to my face and softly pressed his forehead to mine. “I know it went against everything you believe in, but thank you for riding with me tonight.” His voice was deep and raspy.
“Thank you for respecting that and being super careful. And thank you for dinn—” The words died on my lips as his found mine. My arms had their own plans as they wrapped around his back and pulled him closer. His kiss was soft at first, gentle and cautious. When I moaned, he deepened it, only stopping to tease my lips with soft nips. I was a fifty-two-year-old woman who’d experienced too many kisses to count, but this one undid me and was better than I could’ve imagined. It was like nothing I’d ever known or felt before. There wasn’t just physical heat radiating from Jake, but a spiritual one that was targeting my soul. This was the moment I realized I might have started falling in love with Jake Chambers. The revelation and ‘danger ahead’ warning blaring in my head were almost as alarming as the loud shrill coming from my back pocket.
He reluctantly broke our kiss and said, “You might need to answer it.” He shifted uncomfortably and took a step back. I reached in my pocket an
d pulled out my phone. I looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. Normally, I wouldn’t take a call from an unrecognizable number, but since returning to Pumpkin Rest and not knowing who might need me in an emergency, I answered it and immediately put it on speaker. Thank goodness I did.
I didn’t recognize the voice at first. It was familiar but it sounded like the person was speaking through a clamped jaw. It was a woman and she was whispering, “Please come.”
I shook my head and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know who this is.”
“Please come to my house.”
“It’s Sheila,” Jake said before snatching the phone out of my hand. He took it off speaker and put it to his ear. I watched his expression change from one of concern to anger as he questioned her. He hung up and said, “Please grab your bag, Barbie. I know where she lives. I can drive us there in your car.”
I retrieved my house and car keys from my other pocket, and after letting myself in, handed them to Jake so he could start my Jeep. I quickly gathered my medical bag, some extra supplies, and flipped on a few lights before shutting the door behind me. I used a key I had hidden on the front porch to lock it.
Jake was frowning when I got in the car. “That is the worst place to hide a key.”
“How would you know?” I asked as I buckled my seat belt.
“Because if I was going to break in it’s the first place I would’ve looked.”
The thirty-minute drive to Sheila’s house was filled with tension as Jake explained that he’d known about the beatings doled out by Sheila’s abusive spouse. “She tries to hide it, but everyone knows what’s going on at her house.”
