by Emma Woods
“Don’t get me started on that guy,” Marco hollered. “I saw the way he looked at you, Jill! Anything he says to you is because he wants to split us up.”
I took a deep breath. “No, Marco. He’s my friend. Anything he says is because he cares for me and wants what’s best for me. You and I should have called this off a long time ago. We had some wonderful times together, but that was a long time ago, and we’re very different now. I don’t think we can build a bridge between us anymore.”
Marco’s heavy breathing filled my ear. Finally, he said, “I’d like your ring back. I’m still making payments on it.”
Boy, that hurt. Later, I realized that it was just further proof of how far we’d grown apart. But in that moment, it ripped a hole in me that I feared would never heal.
“Okay,” I squeaked.
“Be sure to get it insured when you mail it,” he said and hung up on me.
I curled up in a ball and sobbed.
13
When I was finally able to stop crying, I went to my computer and wrote up lesson plans and emailed them to Lisa. There was no way I could function at school the next day. I needed time to process what had just happened. Once I had everything in place for being out the next day, I took a deep breath and walked to over to tell Rosemarie what had happened.
“Oh, Jill,” she cried and pulled me into a hug. My friend’s sorrow on my behalf touched my heart, and I could feel tears making their way down the familiar tracks on my cheeks and into Rosemarie’s sweatshirt.
If I’d lived anywhere else, I wouldn’t have had the strength to tell my other housemates that my engagement was over. But Bumblebee House was different, and the sisterhood we shared meant that I knew the girls would want to know and be sensitive to my feelings.
Sure enough, Mae’s big blue eyes were full of understanding and empathy. “I’ll be praying for you,” she said as she squeezed my hand and didn’t ask for the gory details. I knew she was relieved I wasn’t marrying Marco, but she didn’t act relieved or tell me I’d made the right choice, for which I was extremely grateful.
“Oh, my sweet friend, I’m sorry for your pain,” Rosa said. She pulled me into a motherly embrace and whispered, “It gets easier with time. I promise.”
I sat at the supper table and picked at my quiche. Emily and Nate were there in all their honeymoon glory. It should have been salt in my very fresh wound, but watching them together didn’t hurt like I’d expected. As Nate listened to Emily talk about the plans she and Matt had for the coffee shop, my heart ached with longing for the closeness Marco and I had shared years before.
And that was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? I was in mourning for the relationship we’d had a long time ago. I missed the old Marco. He’d changed and was no longer someone I could build a life with. It was sad, but not devastating. I was more hurt by the fact that Marco didn’t seem to care if he hurt me. His parting remarks about the ring he’d bought me were cruel, and I never would have thought him capable of that back when we first dated. But I was mourning the relationship, not the man.
I slept well that night. The next day, I dug out the ring box Marco had given me, and I’d saved for sentimental reasons. I drove to Melbourne and FedEx-ed it to him with plenty of insurance in case it got lost. As the clerk took the box and put it in the pile to send off, I felt free.
I treated myself to a fast food lunch complete with strawberry milkshake and extra-large fries. As I dipped my fries in ketchup, I finally admitted that I was relieved to be done trying to force things to work with Marco. I’d been holding on so tightly to something that was over a long time ago.
But once I let that go, there was some serious fear underneath. And as I drove back to Birch Springs, sipping my milkshake, I felt it lapping around my ankles. The dam had burst, and the tide of worry was coming in.
I was alone. I wasn’t getting married, and my future was a big, wide-open question mark. I might never find someone else who wanted me enough to marry me. And I was already wondering if Marco had actually ever loved me the way I’d imagined he had. Was there something unlovable about me at the deepest level?
Sure, Tom seemed fond of me. Even Marco had noticed his attention. But I knew that didn’t mean much. Tom was older than me by eight years, at least. Did he see me as some sort of younger sister? And, to be frank, I wasn’t sure that anything could ever really happen with him. I appreciated him and adored Sophie, but that didn’t mean that we were going to fall in love and get married.
It might never happen for me. Rosa was almost forty and had never been married. She seemed so settled and content with her life. Did she ever feel lonely? And was being lonely as terrifying as I always imagined it would be?
I decided on a whim to go to Granddad’s house. He lived in the same two-bedroom bungalow that he and Granny had bought back when they first moved to Birch Springs, when Granddad became principal of the elementary school. Granny had passed away ten years earlier, but Granddad worked hard to keep the house up.
I parked and trudged up the walk to the kitchen door, hands shoved in my pockets. I knocked on the screen door and called in, “Hi, Granddad, it’s me!”
He shuffled into the kitchen in his ratty slippers and said, “Goodness, girl. What are you doing here in the middle of a school day? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.”
I came in and gave him a hug. With his thin arms around me, I said, “Marco and I called off our engagement, Granddad.”
I felt his lips on the top of my head. He insisted on putting the kettle on and found mugs, tea bags, and packets of sweetener that Granny always used to steal from restaurants. We joked that Granddad had a lifetime supply thanks to her, and now I was benefiting from her squirreling, too.
“What happened?” he asked as he sat down across the table from me.
“We grew apart a long time ago.” I tried to sound mature and not let him peek at the big mess I actually was inside.
“And you couldn’t grow back together,” Granddad stated.
I shrugged, hoping to hold back the tide of emotions. Tears pricked at my eyes. “Marco likes who he’s become, and I don’t,” I whispered.
Granddad patted my hand. I looked down at the age spots, wrinkles, and dark veins on his hand. He’d lived a lifetime and seen far more than I had. It was comforting to know that I wasn’t the first person to be disappointed in love. It was even more comforting to be sitting here with someone who had known me all my life and loved me in spite of it.
I blinked damply up at him. “The worst part is that I thought I had it all figured out. I had this big epiphany about why I wasn’t doing what I should in our relationship. I was hopeful that we could actually fix things. But he didn’t want to. He actually said he liked things the way they were. It’s like he had no idea what I was feeling, and he didn’t really care.”
“Well, it sounds like you made the right decision to call things off. Marriage to this young man would be a big mistake, if that’s his attitude toward you.”
The kettle whistled, and Granddad heaved himself up and busied himself bringing everything to the table.
“I know it’s not the same, but how did you move forward after losing Granny? I thought I knew where we were going and what was coming next. Now I have no idea.” I dunked my herbal tea bag into the hot water and reached for a pink packet.
“It’s a frightening thing, to be sure. I always imagined that I’d be here in retirement with your grandmother. We were planning to grow old together. Suddenly all the choices are mine to make on my own. And there are many things to fear. At what point can’t I live alone anymore? What if I can’t care for myself? What will I do next?” Granddad sighed. “I would have preferred doing these things with your grandmother.”
My heart went out to him.
“But it’s different for you,” he said and sipped his tea. “You have a job you like and a good place to live. You can keep doing those things, because you’re not getting married and mov
ing away.”
It was a good point, and one I hadn’t paid enough attention to.
“The death of a dream is always painful,” Granddad went on. “But there is always another dream just waiting to be born. They are in no short supply.”
I stayed and we talked of other things. By the time I headed for home, I felt much better. Probably better than I should have. Marco had hurt me. But marrying him would have been a huge mistake. Our romance had died years before, and I hadn’t had time to mourn it properly before now. It would take some time, but this wasn’t a devastating blow.
I went back to work on Friday. No one noticed that my ring finger was naked. I found I didn’t want to make a big deal about it. I’d tell people over time, when I could do so without being dramatic. Instead, I threw myself into teaching and found my students to be a balm to my heart.
Sophie came for her piano lesson on Saturday, as usual. She’d practiced hard and sang each of her songs with great gusto, which was adorable. Mae wandered by the door to the study, and we shared a smile that was lost on the little girl, so focused was she on getting the notes right.
Rosemarie arrived with a kitten that she was watching for a friend for the weekend just as we finished our lesson. Sophie was enraptured with the little ball of fur, and Rosemarie took them both out to the front yard to play. I sat in a chair on the porch and watched them, laughing at both of them as they squealed with delight.
Tom’s battered truck rumbled up the drive.
“Dad, Dad! Look! A kitten! His name is Thor!” Sophie was yelling before Tom even got out of the truck. “He is the cutest thing I ever saw! I am in love with him!”
Tom strolled up the walk and sat in the chair next to mine. Our elbows were almost touching, and we had a great view of the romp that was happening in the yard below.
“How was your week? I saw you were out on Thursday. We missed you at the ranch.” He said it kindly, and I knew he wouldn’t hold it against me if I decided not to open up.
I checked and saw that Sophie was completely enthralled with the kitten, so I quietly confessed, “Marco and I broke off our engagement Wednesday night.”
Tom didn’t say anything, and I didn’t want to look at him. I couldn’t bear it if he had an “I told you so” expression, no matter how much I deserved it.
“You were right,” I admitted. “We were in a really bad place.” I swallowed and pushed on. “I was letting him call all the shots because I was afraid of losing him. Thanks for talking to me at the gym the other day. You were a good friend to confront me about him. I’m sorry that I wasn’t very kind in return.”
His rough hand touched my arm, and I looked over at him.
Tom’s brown eyes were full of compassion as he said, “I’m sorry that you’re hurting, but I think you made the right decision. And I’m not upset at all about what you said at the gym. You weren’t wrong. I don’t have a good track record when it comes to relationships. But that’s why I knew that you and your fiancé needed to rethink getting married. I was there, too, once.”
I nodded. What would have happened if I’d married Marco? Would we have a couple of children, and then realize that our marriage was hurting everyone around us? Could we have come back from that? I didn’t have any idea, but I was very glad that I didn’t have to go through that.
“Hey, Sophie’s been bugging me to invite you over to supper. Any chance you’re free tonight? It won’t be fancy, and there’s a good chance fish sticks will be on the menu.”
A laugh burst out of me. Supper with Tom and Sophie sounded delightful. “Sure. I’m free tonight. Can I bring anything?”
“Probably not. I’ll text you if we need something.”
He tore Sophie away from the kitten and Rosemarie, and I waved them off.
I reached over and rubbed the kitten’s tiny ears. “Why would anyone name this little guy after the god of thunder?”
“Probably because he’s so fierce,” Rosemarie said dryly.
The kitten sneezed adorably, and we laughed and headed into the house.
14
I wore jeans and one of my old college sweatshirts to supper at the Jerretts’. Knowing Tom, jeans would be just fine. I was coming to realize how much I appreciated friends you didn’t have to clean up for. It never bothered me if Rosemarie saw my bedroom at its messiest. Tonight, I had no makeup, hadn’t combed my hair before tugging it up into a bun, and felt absolutely fine about it. I was very pleased to realize that this was the state of my friendship with Tom.
They’d rented a small house not far from Granddad. It was a generic brick ranch with a small, neat yard. Tom’s truck sat in the drive, looking like one of those old-timers who only wore overalls and sat outside the hardware store chewing tobacco and cackling with their buddies.
I parked and went to the front door. It was open, so I pulled the screen door back and called my hello as I entered. My eyes roved the bare furnishings, which were clearly evidence that a man lived here without a wife. Framed photos of Sophie had been hung a little too high on the wall over the worn leather sofa. The TV was larger than anyone could ever require it to be, and there was a pile of shoes and boots inside the front door.
“Hi, Miss Kent!” Sophie said as she danced into the room. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and grinned a gap-toothed smile at me.
“Hi, Sophie. Thanks for inviting me to supper.” I took off my shoes and left them next to the pile. It was funny how a pair of women’s shoes completed the pile somehow.
“My dad’s in the kitchen,” the little girl said and led the way down the small hallway.
The kitchen wasn’t anything to write home about. There was a round table with four chairs at one end of the room, and a little galley kitchen at the other. I noticed that there was a red-checked tablecloth and some sort of centerpiece that looked handmade. I couldn’t give it more than a glance, though, as Tom greeted me.
“Do you want anything to drink? I put some sodas in the fridge earlier, so they should be cold by now.”
“Dad, can I have a root beer?” Sophie asked, and I knew that it was a special treat for her.
“Since we have a guest, you can have one with supper, okay?”
“Okay.” Sophie sparkled at us both.
Tom and I exchanged a grin.
“What’s for supper? Is it fish sticks after all?” I teased.
“No. We are having a very fancy pizza,” Tom replied with a twinkle in his eye.
“A fancy pizza? I don’t know if I’ve ever had one of those.” I looked at Sophie, waiting for the rest of the explanation.
“Oh, we have them all the time,” she said in an off-handed way.
“Where do you get them from?” I pressed, hoping for clarification.
Tom leaned back against the counter and smiled at us. Clearly the mystery of the “fancy” pizza was going to be entertaining.
“Tell Miss Kent about where it comes from,” he prompted.
“We get it at the grocery store. They have regular pizza, but this one comes with its own pan right in the box. It’s fancy,” Sophie shrugged as though it was obvious.
I laughed. “That does sound fancier than the kind that comes on a circle of cardboard.”
The little girl grinned at me. Clearly, we understood each other. “Yeah. It’s fancy. Do you want to see my room?”
I trailed her down the hall and into her bedroom. My heart warmed as I looked around. Clearly, this was where Tom had put all his decorating efforts. One glance in the doorway to what could only be his room told me that he had a plaid bedspread and not a single thing on the walls.
Sophie’s room, though, was frilly and girlie. She had ruffled curtains and a lace canopy over her bed. Dolls spilled out of a buggy in the corner, and a well-loved dollhouse stood ready for playing nearby.
“This is such a great room,” I praised. “I love your canopy.”
Sophie jumped onto her bed and reached up gently to run her fingers over it. “It was my birthday
present last year from my grandma. Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“It sure is. I would have loved a canopy like that when I was a girl. You are so lucky!”
Tom called that supper was ready, and we went into the bathroom to wash our hands. Again, everything was spare, but clean and tidy. It suited Tom, I thought. He was a simple, unfussy sort of guy. You knew where you stood with him. He didn’t have a lot of deep layers or hidden surprises. All was out in the open and easily accessible.
I couldn’t stop myself from comparing that to Marco. His apartment, when I’d last visited, was full of high-tech toys and sleek, trendy furniture. Appearing cool was far more important than comfort to Marco. I tried not to let myself look down on him, but I knew that I was much more comfortable in the Jerretts’ house than I could ever be in Marco’s apartment. One more reason we shouldn’t be together, I told myself.
I gushed over Sophie’s room to Tom as we got drinks and dished up the pizza. As I took my plate to the chair Sophie said would be mine for the evening, I started to pay attention to the decorations on the table. The tablecloth was plastic and bore the look of being fresh out of the package. Two candles, one tall and thin and one short and fat, were in the center along with a hand-lettered sign.
We sat down, and Tom blessed the food. I’d no sooner lifted my pizza to my mouth for the first bite when Sophie groaned loudly.
“My stomach hurts,” she moaned. “I think I need to lie down.”
Tom and I exchanged a confused look as she pushed her chair back and slumped out of the room. This was especially puzzling, since this sudden illness had shown no previous symptoms.
“Is she okay?” I whispered.
