The Will

by Kristen Ashley

  “Uh…yes,” I lied. “Just a friend of Gran’s calling.” Luckily, that wasn’t a lie. “Listen, I have to go. I’m still in my nightie and I have some errands to run today.”

  “All right, honey,” he replied then asked somewhat strangely, “You’re going to be at Lavender House all weekend?”

  “Of course, Henry. Where else would I be?” I responded.

  That was, I’d be there (mostly) when I wasn’t at the arena watching Jake (and Mickey) fighting.

  I didn’t share that, however.

  “Just checking,” he murmured then, louder, “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “All right, Henry. Speak with you tomorrow.”

  “You will. ’Bye, honey.”

  “Good-bye, Henry.”

  Without listening to his disconnect, I accomplished my own and immediately scrolled down my phone and hit Jake’s number.

  It rang twice before he answered with, “Slick.”

  I took in a breath and greeted, “Hello, Jake.”

  “How’s your mornin’?” he asked.

  “Delightful,” I lied. “How are Amber and Conner?”

  “Con’s not up yet,” he told me. “He dropped off Ellie and then they talked probably until two in the morning on the phone. Amber seems fine and this might have to do with the fact that I okayed a sleepover tonight at Taylor’s.”

  “Boy Taylor or girl Taylor?” I asked.

  “Boy Taylor and the big deal about that is that he’s got a better makeup collection for them to screw around with. Girl Taylor has a better closet of clothes but she’s not Amber’s size so that’s not as fun.”

  “Ah,” I murmured with a smile in my voice as one was on my lips.

  “That why you called?” he asked.

  “Um…no,” I answered.

  His voice dropped lower and sweeter when he queried, “Why’d you call, baby?”

  “Well, I just wished to tell you to…I don’t know. What do you say to someone prior to a fight? It’s probably not telling them to break a leg.”

  I heard his chuckle before, “No. That’s not what you say.”

  “Well, whatever you say, I wanted to say that.”

  “Kick his ass, mess him up, knock him out, floor him…those are the usuals,” he educated me.

  “Well, do all that,” I encouraged.

  I got another chuckle before he said, “Good luck also works.”

  “Then good luck too,” I stated.

  “Can’t not have good luck, you sittin’ ringside watchin’ me fight.”

  I blinked at the phone on the wall as warmth swept through me at his words.

  And as this warmth spread through me, I realized that as much as I loved how wonderful he was, I was beginning to wish he was a little less wonderful. Jake being so wonderful was making it hard not to pretend I was living in a world where I could experience just how wonderful I actually wanted him to be.

  He seemed not to mind my non-response for he went on to inquire, “You headin’ to the Weavers this morning?”

  “Well, um…” Drat! Why was I finding it difficult to prevaricate? “Arnie called this morning and asked me not to come. His children are visiting this weekend and therefore Eliza already has a good deal of company and it’s doubtful Arnie will want to go to the office,” I found myself announcing.

  This was met with silence.

  Then I heard, “Fuck.”

  He understood the reason for the Weaver children’s visit.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” I said quietly. “I didn’t wish to tell you. I didn’t want to take your focus off your fight tonight with that kind of news. I know you don’t know them but you worry about me and—”

  He interrupted me. “No matter what, babe, it’s on your mind, you need to let it go, you tell me. I don’t give a fuck if I’m set to fight Holyfield, I wanna know.”

  Yes, it would be a lot easier if he was less wonderful.

  “You doin’ okay with this news?” Jake asked.

  “No,” I whispered, again honestly.

  “You need company?” he went on.

  I didn’t need it. I’d be all right.

  That didn’t mean I didn’t want it.

  But Jake had a fight so I shouldn’t ask for it.

  “No, Jake. I have quite a bit to do today. Once I get started, it’ll take my mind off things. Then I have your event tonight to look forward to. I’m fine.”

  “Sure?” he pressed.

  “I’m sure,” I told him.

  He didn’t respond for a moment then he said, “Okay, baby. You get unsure, you call. Right?”

  Oh yes.

  It would be much easier if he was less wonderful.

  “Right, Jake,” I agreed.

  “Shit,” he muttered suddenly then he told me, “Sounds like Con’s up. I wanna have a word with him before he has to get to work. I gotta let you go.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll, well…see you tonight.”

  “You will, Slick. See you then.”

  “Yes, Jake. Good luck and, um…mess him up.”

  That got me another chuckle before, “My promise to you, I will, Josie. Later, honey.”

  “Later, Jake.”

  Unlike Henry, I waited to hear his disconnect before I put down my phone.

  I went back to my mug, took a sip of coffee and resolutely turned my eyes to the plants and herbs in Gran’s greenhouse.

  I needed to get in there. And I needed to because they did need attention. But I also needed to so I could take my mind off Eliza Weaver, Arnie Weaver and the reason their children were visiting.

  But mostly I needed to because I needed to get my mind off just how wonderful Jake Spear was and just how much I needed him to be a little less wonderful.

  * * * * *

  I was working in the greenhouse when the house phone rang again.

  As I’d suspected, I’d managed to procure backstage passes to the Bounce concert in Boston that was to occur two weeks hence. I did this by calling Bounce’s manager and he hadn’t even talked to the band before he said, “No probs, Josephine. We’ll have the Malone party on the list and they’ll be instructed to give you as many passes as you need.”

  I’d texted this information to Jake who’d texted back, “Gotcha, Slick.” I’d also texted this information to Amber, telling her to share it with the Taylors so they could confirm with their parents. Her reply was oddly, “SQUEEEEE!!!”

  I’d hit the greenhouse and started work but it was no surprise it was not easy to take my mind off Jake. Though I did manage to focus on the less difficult things, such as going to his fight that night and primary to that, what I’d wear.

  I’d never been to a fight. I had no idea what attire was appropriate.

  It was this that I was thinking when the phone started ringing.

  I put down my clippers and headed to the phone, brushing small dead leaves of thyme from my fingers. I grabbed it and put it to my ear.

  “Lavender House,” I greeted.

  “Josephine?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Reverend Fletcher.”

  Slightly surprised, I settled a hip to the counter and said, “Hello, Reverend Fletcher. How are you today?”

  “I’m well, Josephine, thank you for asking,” he replied. “I don’t want to take up much of your time but it’s come to my attention you’re looking after Eliza Weaver as well as collecting Ethan Spear from school.”

  It was not a surprise that he knew this. Magdalene was a small town but news traveled fast even when one was not in a small town.

  What was a surprise was that he phoned and referred to it.

  “Yes, Reverend, I am,” I confirmed.

  “Does this mean you’re planning to stay in Magdalene for a while?” he went on to query.

  “Indeed it does,” I told him.

  “That’s lovely news. Ruth and I would enjoy seeing you at services and perhaps you’ll join us for dinner one evening.”

  Services would no
t likely be on my agenda. Although I quite liked the Fletchers and obviously, being Gran’s granddaughter, I believed in God and honored Him (mostly), services tended to occur early. I’d wake up early to work out with Jake but I wouldn’t relish doing it to get dressed up to listen to a sermon.

  Dinner would be nice, though.

  “That would be lovely,” I said.

  “I’m also calling for another reason,” he shared.

  “And that would be?” I prompted when he said no more.

  “I believe you know Pearl Milshorn?”

  “Of course,” I told him. “She’s one of Gran’s closest friends.”

  “Yes, well, you also probably know her son is in Portland, her daughter in Bar Harbor and her grandkids are scattered everywhere. She has folks who come in a few times a week to help her with groceries and cleaning and Ruth or one of my parishioners picks her up for church on Sunday mornings but she doesn’t get many visitors. And she walks with that frame so can’t get around easily. I know Lydia visited her once a week if she could, or Pearl came to Lavender House. I’m worried with your grandmother gone she’s getting quite lonely and—”

  I interrupted him, feeling terrible I hadn’t thought of this myself. Since I’d been in Magdalene, Pearl had phoned and she’d been one of the few who’d given me a hug at Gran’s funeral. I hadn’t thought of her again since but it was rare when I came to visit Gran that I didn’t see Pearl, even in passing.

  I should have thought of her.

  Therefore, I interrupted him to say, “I’ll pop by. Look in on her. See if she needs anything and if she’s up for regular visitors.”

  I said this but I thought that Ethan seemed rather fond of senior citizens (and pretty much anybody). He might enjoy visiting Pearl and getting to know her and I knew she’d enjoy the same. In fact, being Gran’s dearest friend, he might already know her.

  “That would be wonderful, Josephine. Thank you,” Reverend Fletcher said.

  “It would be my pleasure. I’ve had many things on my mind, I should have popped by before,” I told him.

  “You’re doing it now,” he reminded me.

  I was indeed.

  “I’ll see you at services tomorrow?” he went on to ask.

  This would be doubtful.

  Still, I said, “I’ll do my best.”

  “Perhaps you can bring Spear and his children,” he suggested.

  It seemed he was not only intent on looking after the soul of Pearl Milshorn but perhaps saving one (or several).

  “I’ll discuss it with Jake,” I replied, and since I didn’t wish to lie to a pastor, I decided at least to mention it to Jake. If Jake said no, he’d say no but I wouldn’t have committed a sin by lying straight to a man of God.

  “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll get Ruth to call you about that dinner. Take care, Josephine.”

  “And you, Reverend.”

  We rang off and when I put the phone back in the cradle, my mind on finding Pearl’s number and giving her a ring, it jumped straight to Dee-Amond.

  And it jumped to Amond for Amond would have the answer to my earlier dilemma.

  Therefore, I found Pearl’s number and felt even guiltier at hearing her delight when I greeted her and arranged for a meeting on Tuesday afternoon.

  After that, I put the phone in the cradle, moved to my mobile and called Amond.

  “Beautiful,” was his greeting.

  “Hello, Amond. You’re well?”

  “Lagged, girl. Just got to Paris yesterday and that ride kicked my ass,” he answered.

  “Sorry,” I murmured, feeling his pain. I’d been jet-lagged so many times it was impossible to count and it was never enjoyable.

  “Why’re you callin’?” he asked when I said no more.

  “I wanted some advice,” I told him.

  There was a moment of silence then, strangely cautiously, he asked, “Advice on what?”

  “Well, you see, I’m going to a boxing match tonight,” I shared. This was met with utter silence so I carried on, “And I don’t know what to wear. I’ve heard you mention that you’ve been to the fights and I thought you might be able to advise me on what attire would be appropriate.”

  More silence before, “You’re going to a fight?”

  “Not one, several. They’ve a league here and the bouts go all day. But I’m hoping to time it so I only have to attend two.”

  “You’re going to a fight,” he repeated, not in a question this time.

  “Well, yes,” I replied.

  This brought more silence before, “And why you goin’ to a fight, beautiful? That’s not exactly your style.”

  “I’ve been asked by the fighters,” I shared.

  “Fighters…plural?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Both opponents?”

  Oh dear.

  Neither Jake nor Mickey told me who their opponents would be and they both fought in the heavyweight class.

  I hoped they weren’t fighting each other.

  Obviously, I’d want Jake to win if this were true. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t want Mickey to lose either. Mostly, I didn’t want to watch them hitting each other.

  Yes, I hoped they weren’t fighting together.

  “No,” I gave him my hope rather than the true answer, as I didn’t know the true answer. “Just two different fighters.”

  To that he murmured, sounding amused, “That’s my Josephine girl, been there a coupla weeks, she’s setting Maine on fire with her ice.”

  I felt my brows draw together. “Pardon?”

  He didn’t repeat himself or explain, he said curiously, “This is gonna be good.”

  “What’s going to be good?” I asked.

  “Nothin’, beautiful. Just suddenly got an urge to haul my ass to Maine to see shit play out. “

  It was then I smiled, though I still didn’t entirely understand him. However, the thought of him visiting was more than lovely.

  “I would love that, Amond. You can stay at Lavender House with me, I’ve plenty of room. And I know you’re fond of boxing and it appears the local community embraces it wholeheartedly. Even the youngsters do it. You could go to a bout with me.”

  I didn’t actually wish to attend more fights (at all) but I liked spending time with Amond and I’d wish to do things he enjoyed so I would, if pressed.

  “I’m thinkin’ things are gonna be pretty crowded for you, girl,” he informed me, again strangely. “But I’ll think on that, let you know. I got a video to shoot before I can show my face in Maine, though.”

  How could I have forgotten that?

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “As for what to wear, won’t matter. You smoke everything you put on,” he continued and did so very kindly. “But trick yourself out. A fighter asks a woman to come to his fight, he sees her ringside, she’s lookin’ ice-cold and shit-hot, it’ll be ammunition for him to kick some serious ass seein’ as he’ll wanna impress her.”

  I didn’t think this would motivate Jake but I had a feeling it would Mickey.

  “Tricked out it is,” I agreed.

  I heard his low, attractive chuckle before he said, “Have fun, Josephine.”

  “I will, Amond,” I assured him though I wasn’t assured myself. Still, dressing up would be fun as it always was.

  “You doin’ okay otherwise?” he asked, his voice lower and sweeter.

  “I have moments,” I shared quietly. “But Gran has good friends and they’re looking after me.”

  “Good to hear,” he said. “I’ll talk to Ginny. See if she can loosen things up for me to get to Maine. Let you know.”

  “Okay, Amond. I hope so and I hope to see you then.”

  “Me, too, girl. Later.”

  “Later, Amond.”

  We rang off and I went back to the greenhouse to finish with the plants, my mind inventorying my wardrobe.

  I hit on the perfect outfit at the same time I thought I might need to call my friend Dakota in LA. As
k her to go to the pool house, pack a few boxes of shoes, clothes, accessories.

  I was going to need them.

  I put that on my mental agenda of things to do that day, picked up the clippers and got down to doing the things I needed to do that day.

  Eventually, I accomplished it all.

  Unfortunately, although I did this, I failed to accomplish not thinking too much about Jake.

  I knew I’d someday beat that urge.

  But that urge was so strong I also knew it would take time.

  Lots of it.

  And it didn’t help I saw him so often.

  With Henry, I saw him every day, sometimes all day every day and therefore that wasn’t easy.

  But somehow, I knew with Jake it would take longer.

  And it would be far more difficult.

  * * * * *

  I walked into the arena finding that Amond was right about the attire. Nearly every woman there was tricked out (except for some who were rather slovenly who I figured were not there to catch the eye of a fighter but instead watch them fight).

  Although it was an amateur league and all of the men were dressed in jeans and mostly t-shirts, there were quite a number of women who were very dolled up. Of course, their hair and makeup were brasher than mine, their clothes more baring and not as high quality. But seeing as my dress was couture, given to me by a designer who had wanted to sleep with me (I took the dress, I didn’t take the invitation), I had an unfair advantage.

  Although I was not alone in being tricked out, when I took off my coat in the outer area of the arena by the ticket counter, many eyes came my way, male and female. It would seem they were between fights so the area was packed with spectators getting refreshments and using the facilities, therefore my audience was somewhat vast.

  I was surprised by the number of people there and slightly nervous. It would be difficult to perform in front of a huge audience and I worried for Jake.

  Of course, if he had pay-per-view fights, his audiences in the past could have conceivably been millions but they weren’t all in the same room with him.

  Shirking off this thought as absurd, seeing as Jake was quite confident and probably rarely (if ever) suffered nerves, I gave out small smiles to a few people whose eyes I caught as I waited in line at the ticket counter and folded my coat over my arm.

  I also smoothed the silk over my hip.

  I was wearing a dress in a striking print of jewel colors, mostly sapphire and emerald with some ruby and pearl. The bodice was blousy but it exposed skin, indeed, the entirety of my arms, shoulders and shoulder blades were bare, with the neckline having cut-in shoulders and being mock-turtleneck. The waistline was a delicate row of gathers that went to my upper hip. The skirt was skintight and allowed movement due to a daring slit up the back.