by Beth Flynn
He had told me and I’d forgotten. My first instinct was to apologize for not heeding his advice. My second instinct was to lash out in all kinds of ways.
For an assisted living facility caregiver you sure do know a lot about guns and thieving.
If you had any interest in being in my bedroom, you’d have already known I didn’t remember about the Velcro behind my headboard.
If you had any interest in me, you’d know that the last thing I wanted to hear when I asked you about your favorite flea market find was about the authentic lady’s tea set you bought for your dead girlfriend, Emmy!
“You know what?” I spat. “I’m not perfect. What you see is what you get. And what you see is a woman who has spent her adult life pulling bullets out of people. I was willing to accept your advice about being responsible for my safety. But you have no right to come into my bedroom and get angry with me for not doing it according to your standards.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and his stance and expression appeared to soften.
Unfortunately, and without warning, a squelched insecurity I didn’t want to face suddenly rose to the surface. I was slapped with the reality that the reason he hadn’t taken our relationship into the bedroom was because he was still grieving a woman he’d been in love with. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, one that I’d not allowed myself to feel since I was a child when I’d begged for any scrap of kindness that had eluded me and was instead bestowed upon my ungrateful sister by our hateful grandmother.
The words were out before I could stop them. “I’m sorry I don’t measure up to Emmaline, Jake. I don’t know that I’ll ever be worthy in your eyes of an authentic English Lord and Lady tea set with provenance. Or a tattoo above your heart for that matter. But I’m not trying to prove anything to you either. I don’t have to.” He looked perplexed, but I held my chin high and continued. “You know what? I take that back. I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry for being me.”
He threw his hammer on my bed and scratched the back of his head. “What does an English tea set and my tattoo have to do with anything? How did we go from gun safety to Emmy?”
I put my hands on my hips and very snarkily asked, “Seriously? You’re going to ask me what Emmy, the perfect lady, has to do with this?” A thought occurred to me, and I smacked my hand against my forehead. “Oh. My. Gosh. I just realized you named my dog after your perfect lady, Emmaline!”
“Emmy was a lady, Barbie. What I can’t figure out is why it bothers you so much.”
I couldn’t bring myself to accuse him of still being in love with her so I went with the next best thing. “I can only guess that you haven’t tried to take anything further with me because I don’t live up to a standard that she set.”
He frowned and asked, “Why would I care what kind of standard Emmy would set?”
I waved my hand over the bed, and realizing my defeat and humiliation, evenly said, “Because you’ve never once tried to get me in bed.”
It was his turn to get angry as his brows creased and he slowly walked toward me. “Is that what this is all about? That I haven’t tried to sleep with you?”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, embarrassed to admit that what he said was true. I shook my head and looked away. “Forget it. Just forget it.”
“No, I’m not going to forget it. What is it, Barbie? Do you think that I don’t want you? Is that it?”
I kicked at the area rug. “It certainly appears that way.”
“I haven’t tried to get you in the sack and that’s what you’re basing this on?”
I looked at him and quirked my head to one side, giving him an imaginary eye roll that I was glad he couldn’t see. “We’ve been together for months now.”
“And you would’ve jumped into bed with me if I’d made the first move?”
This would be tough to answer, but I figured honesty was best. “Not at first,” I admitted. “I wouldn’t have. But enough time has passed that I’m beginning to think there’s a problem.”
His jaw was rigid and his eyes were blazing when he said, “You would have turned me down, but now you’re mad because I’m respecting you?”
“Respecting me?” I huffed.
“Yeah, Barbie. That’s what I’ve been doing—respecting you. Giving you time to mourn the loss of your marriage and Richard’s death, the resurrected memories of Kenny’s abandonment, finding out you’re not an Anderson.” He swiped his hand through the air. “Not to mention your crappy sister and her shenanigans. Not once did you give me any indication that I was invited up here.”
I wouldn’t look at him.
“Stubborn woman!” he yelled before stomping out of the room.
I closed my eyes. What have you done, Barbie? You turned a small spat about gun safety into a blow-up about carnal desires. I plopped down on the edge of the bed, and I put my head in my hands. And you had to drag his dead girlfriend into it. Just imagining a pretty Emmaline with a British accent to boot made me nauseous. I stood up when I heard him pounding back up the stairs. He flew into the room and grabbed me hard, pulling me tight against him. His mouth came crashing down on mine in a desperate fury I’d never felt from him.
He pulled back, breathless, his blue eyes startling in their intensity. “You know why I haven’t tried to go further with you?”
I was shocked and dumbfounded and could only shake my head.
“Because when we make love, there is no going back for me, Barbie. I could give you a test run if that’s what you want.” He motioned toward the bed. “But I’m not about that. I’ve only ever had test runs. I want more. I want it to be permanent. And you’re right about Emmy. I wanted to do it in a way she would’ve approved of.”
I was right. Emmy was stuck somewhere in between us.
He reached behind him and pulled something out of his back pocket. “I’ve been carrying this around forever waiting for the right time. With it being so close to Valentine’s Day I thought I’d wait a little longer. But I think we’ve both waited long enough.”
He got down on one knee and opened a small box. A huge amethyst stone, which happened to be my birthstone and favorite color, encircled with dazzling diamonds winked up at me. “Marry me, Barbie. I’m in love with you, and I’m sorry I haven’t told you before today. I want to make it permanent and forever. I don’t need a test run. Say yes to spending the rest of your life with me.”
If I could’ve made a list of possible reactions Jake could have to our first fight, a marriage proposal would not have been on it. I was stunned into silence as my eyes roamed between the sparkling purple stone and back to the icy blue eyes that held me prisoner as they begged for an answer.
“Marriage doesn’t mean you’ll spend the rest of your life together,” I whispered, remnants of my failed union with Richard threatening to ruin the moment.
“It does to me, Barbie doll. It does to me.” He slowly stood up and said, “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner that I’m in love with you.” He looked a bit unsettled when he added, “I don’t even know how you feel about me, Barbie.”
“Really?” I cried as I flung myself into his arms. “You don’t know how I feel about you? My outburst of jealousy didn’t give you a hint?” I laughed as I stepped back to peer up at him. “I love you too, Jake. I love you with an intensity that frightens me. In a way that I never loved Richard.” It wasn’t easy for me to be this honest, considering he may never admit to loving me more than Emmy. But I wasn’t going to let a ghost keep me from my future. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
If this were a scene in a romantic chick flick, Jake would’ve slowly undressed me, carried me to the bed, and we would’ve made wild passionate love until dusk and then again until dawn. But, this was reality. I hadn’t brushed my teeth, and he was late for work. He put the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly.
He stood back, looking slightly uncomfortable. “I have things to tell you.”
I remembered his words the day I found Kenny’s note beneath the floorboards of my
new bathroom. Mine’s a long story that I haven’t shared completely, Barbie, but I will one day.
I smiled and said, “I know you do. But it can wait until you get back from Cleveland.”
He shook his head. “No. It can’t wait. I’m working a double shift so I can’t come by tonight. I’ll need to get some sleep because I’ll be driving, but I’ll come by here tomorrow before I leave to meet up with the Leavitts. We’ll talk before I go.”
We wanted to walk hand in hand down the stairs, but Jake was too wide for both of us to fit. So, being the gentleman that he was, he waved me in front of him and followed me down.
We stopped at the front door and he turned to face me. “I still don’t see what Emmy has to do with us, Barbie. I told you before, you would’ve liked her. She was special, and you two would’ve had a lot in common.”
I crossed my arms in front of me and gave him the benefit of looking him in the eyes. It’s an honest person who can confess their humiliation, I told myself.
“This is hard for me to say, but I was jealous. Her name on your chest, the special tea set that you went out of the way to buy for her. I know I’m being ridiculous.” I chewed on my bottom lip, and earlier moments of bravery were lost as I cast my eyes downward. “Being threatened by someone who’s no longer here. But knowing you were in love with another woman…” I paused and looked up at him sheepishly. “Knowing that you’d still be with her if she hadn’t died brought out an ugly green monster and I’m ashamed.”
I expected him to understand. I expected him to tell me he forgave me and that he would never let Emmaline come between us. What I didn’t expect was for him to burst out in a roaring belly laugh.
I took a step back, offended. “I don’t see what’s so funny, Jake. I’m admitting to being jealous of Emmaline, and you’re making sport of it.”
“Oh, baby. My sweet Barbie doll. You’re so wrong about Emmy and me.”
“You have her name on your chest, Jake!”
He stopped laughing and grabbed me by my upper arms. “Barbie, Emmy was special to me, but not in the way you think.”
I tried to raise an eyebrow, but couldn’t manage it.
“Emmy was a resident at the nursing home where I worked in Georgia. She was ninety-two years old, Barbie. She was a snooty old broad, but I loved her. I worked my way into her life and she wormed her way into my heart.”
My mouth fell open, words lost in the silliness of my misunderstanding.
“She’s the one who encouraged me to take the road less traveled. The road that led to you. And you’re right. Her name is above my heart because she believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.” He took a step toward me. “But the spot over my heart has been reserved for someone else.”
Our eyes locked, mine blinking back tears of relief as he tapped his chest with his right hand.
“It’s been reserved for you, Barbie. It’s always been reserved for you.”
Chapter 40
Is This Something You Do Regularly?
I slept like a baby that night. I could only pray Jake was getting a restful sleep as well, considering he’d be on the road soon. I’d already agreed to care for Henry in his absence so I would’ve been seeing him anyway before he left, but I knew the marriage proposal and my acceptance prompted an urgency for him to come clean with me before his trip to Cleveland.
I wasn’t surprised when Henry showed up without him the next morning. He dropped his latest find on the floor and it landed with a thunk, prompting Lady to scramble toward him so she could smell it. I picked up the rusted canteen, and turning it over in my hands marveled, “I think you may have something old here, boy.” I set it on the counter. “Looks like it could be Civil War era.” I made a mental note to search the internet later to see if I was right.
I spent the rest of the morning cleaning, and well past lunchtime working on my latest project. I’d started gathering the few items of memorabilia I had from my father and grandfather. I was going to have the treasures mounted in a shadow box that I planned to hang over the fireplace. I heard Jake’s truck and went outside to greet him.
He marched up the porch steps carrying Henry’s food and favorite toys.
I leaned against the jamb of my front door, “You know I keep a supply of Henry’s food. You didn’t need to bring more.”
“Just wanna make sure you have enough.” He gave me a quick peck on the lips and I moved aside to let him in the house. I was following him into the kitchen when he called over his shoulder, “Are you going to keep Anderson or change your name to Chambers after we get married?”
The question was unexpected, one I hadn’t considered.
He set Henry’s things on the table and turned to face me. “You don’t have to change your name if you don’t want to, Barbie.”
“I’ve already decided I want to spend the fourth quarter as your wife. So yes, I’ll take your name, Jake.”
His smile was instant and dazzling but quickly faded.
“What’s wrong?” I moved toward him and watched as he bent low to scratch Lady under her chin.
He avoided my eyes, peering around my kitchen like he was looking for something. “We need to talk before I leave.” He looked at his watch. “I overslept and didn’t save a whole lot of time.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him into the living room, where I plopped onto my new couch. “I don’t think this is going to be as horrible as you think it’s going to be.” I peered up at him and patted the seat beside me. He sat down, and leaning forward, rested his elbows on his knees.
“I told you I had things I hadn’t shared with you.”
I reached for one of his hands and held it tightly between both of mine. “Before you start, will you answer a question for me?” I scooted up closer to the edge of the couch so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look back at me. “If you can answer this question honestly, I promise what you have to tell me won’t be as awful as you think.”
I saw the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed and said, “Okay, honey. Ask me.”
I raised my chin slightly and locked eyes with him. “Did you have anything to do with what happened to Sheila’s husband? The beating he took and his disappearance? I was your alibi that night, but something tells me you know more.” I took a deep breath. “It couldn’t have been a coincidence that I made an offhanded remark questioning whether or not abusers would continue to do so if they felt the kind of pain they inflicted.” I licked my lips. “And Sheila’s husband suffered the same fate she suffered at the end of his fist.”
He disengaged my hands from his and stood up. He locked both hands behind his head as he paced back and forth. Blowing out a long breath, he confessed. “Yes, it was me. I did that to him.” Before I could respond, he added, “And I’m the reason he left town. I told him if he ever went near her again, I wouldn’t be so nice the next time.”
“But you couldn’t have done it!” I jumped up. “You were with me when witnesses said he left the bar. And you’d been at work for hours when they found him.” I’d expected him to tell me he had someone, most likely the bikers at The Lonesome Keg, beat up Sheila’s husband. Hearing him admit he was the actual perpetrator caught me by surprise. My forehead puckered in concentration as I tried to figure out how he could’ve been in two places at once.
He stopped pacing and stood with his fists clenched at his sides. After all this time and he couldn’t conceal his anger toward the man. “I don’t think one beating was enough payback for the physical and emotional agony he’d inflicted on Sheila for years, and I don’t regret doing it.”
“I abhor violence of any kind, but I get it,” I reluctantly admitted. I was afraid to ask if my comment had influenced his decision to retaliate. “She was too scared to ask for help. He could’ve killed her that night.”
Jake agreed then explained how the timing had been perfect. He’d already had something planned and my dinner invitation served up the perfect excuse to use the cheese grater s
o he could purposely injure his knuckles.
“Because you knew you’d do damage to your hand when you beat him,” I’d interjected. “It was the perfect cover-up for when the detectives talked to us at Hampton House.” He gave me an affirmative nod and continued with his explanation.
The two bikers had been waiting outside the bar for the man and had him in the trunk of their car before anyone knew he was gone. Jake hadn’t left my house to go home and change before going to work like he’d told me. He’d already had his scrubs with him. Instead, he used the extra time to meet them at an abandoned house where he inflicted the same injuries on the abusive bully that Sheila had received. Plus a few more.
“They kept him at the house until I went to work and punched the clock. They dumped him behind the bar where they knew someone would find him after closing.”
I tilted my head to one side and gave him an appraising look. “Thank you for your honesty.”
He maintained a solid stance and crossed his arms. I could see the defiance behind his eyes as he prepared himself to share the rest of his story. I didn’t give him a chance when I asked, “Is this something you do regularly? Mete out vigilante justice?” It was my turn to look worried. “Are you a violent person, Jake?”
He walked toward me shaking his head, “No, Barbie. Not at all. I’m not a bully and I don’t look for a reason to hurt people.” He took both my hands in his. “But, you should know right now that I will never stand on the sidelines and watch somebody I care about get hurt.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t tell them it was you, Jake.” I let go of his hands and walked to the front window. With my back to him I said, “You have a record. It could land you back in jail.”
He walked up behind me and encircled my waist with his arms. Pulling my back against his chest, he caressed the nape of my neck with his nose, then his lips. “I wasn’t stupid enough to let him see my face, Barbie.”
