I couldn't offer her much, but more than that, she'd have to give up everything she thought she wanted to stay here with me. And I knew it made me the exact mansplainer dickhead she accused me of being by suggesting she didn't actually want any of the things she went after, but it was the truth.
She didn't want that job out in California, she wanted the redemption it represented.
She didn't want to work on another campaign—or whatever the hell it was—she wanted to be sought-after.
She didn't want to devote her entire existence to another politician, she wanted a place and a family and—
Well, that didn't matter.
None of it mattered.
That morning, I was up and out before my parents. My appointment in nearby Dartmouth wasn't until the afternoon but I kept myself busy checking on trees at two South Coast area golf courses until then. I went a little overboard with my note-taking (completely illegible nonsense) and scaled a few more trees than the conditions called for (none of them needed a moment's attention) but I couldn't obsess over Jasper and her decisions while twenty feet off the ground and holding on with one hand and a toehold.
I obsessed enough with both feet on the ground.
When it came to trees I'd never examined before, I liked to sit with them for a time. It helped me understand how they'd grown and the ways in which the wind moved through them. Usually, I had no trouble focusing on this task. Being among trees was the most natural thing in the world to me and it didn't require any deep level of awareness but today, dammit, today I could not see anything but Jasper.
Every time we went into the woods together flashed before me like a memory book. Every time I backed her up against a tree. Every time she looked at me with those round, vulnerable eyes and told the truth about things that scared her. Every time I swore she'd figure it all out.
And she did. She figured it out. She figured herself right out of my life.
I managed to get through the consultation despite my complete inability to function, and got the hell out of Dartmouth. I returned to my parents' house because Jasper might be at home or she might be gone, and neither option was acceptable. If push came to shove, I could avoid my house for a full month.
I stopped short when I entered the kitchen and found my sister seated at the table, her feet propped on the opposite chair, her laptop and notebook spread out in front of her. "What are you doing here?" I asked.
"What are you?" she shot back.
I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. "I had work in Dartmouth."
She placed both hands on her belly. "Rob had a last minute thing in New York and since I require full-time supervision, Mom picked me up this morning." With a shrug, she added, "She ran out to the grocery store because I told her I need organic baby carrots."
"Are you that much of a pain in the ass or did you need a break?"
"Yes."
We shared a laugh and that was probably the first time I'd managed more than a scowl in twenty-four hours. It felt…strange.
I dropped into the chair beside her feet. "How are you not losing your mind with everyone hovering over you?"
"Oh, I've already lost it. I lost it back when the ultrasound tech said 'and we have a second heartbeat here.' It's been a downward spiral of wild and wacky times since then."
"And you're just going along with it? With Mom taking custody of you because your husband is away for the night?"
She gestured to her belly. "Do I want someone babysitting me? No. Of course not, Lin. But I have five more days until it's time to evict these boys and I have a serious suspicion they'll beat that timeline. I need someone around if for no other reason than to get me carrots when I feel like them. I'm not working this week because—"
"Excuse me." I tapped the lid of her laptop. "What does this look like to you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, yes, it's work but I'm not in the office and all of my calls are being forwarded. I even put my email on out-of-office too."
"That's so brave of you."
Another eyeroll. "I need Mom hovering right now. I'm not interested in driving myself to the hospital any more than I'm interested in a home birth." She shifted in her seat, gave a wince, and held up a hand as if warning off the concern I was about to express. "It's all good. Just my bones feeling like they're all in the wrong places."
"That sounds terrible."
"It really is but I have high hopes they'll go back where they belong after the twins are born." She nodded emphatically and I couldn't help but smile in response. "Since I have you here, I just want to say it's okay if you don't want to work with me. No, please let me finish before you tell me your thoughts on this. Lin, I'm giving you permission to say no and step away. It's okay. I'm not interested in this partnership if you aren't. Why would I want to force you into something like this? I wouldn't. I don't. That wouldn't be fair to either of us. So, if you want to put this behind us and never speak of it again, just say it because I want to move that item off my project board before I go into labor."
I almost did. I almost told Magnolia I didn't want to do this because partnerships and working relationships with legal backbones were not my style. More than either of those issues, I didn't care for commitments.
But that wasn't true, not in any authentic sense. I wanted the right commitments, the ones that belonged to me because I made them and cherished them.
"I would like to move forward with your proposal," I said, the words sounding as unsteady as I felt.
She blinked. "Wait. Dude. Are you serious? Or are you saying you want to move forward with my proposal to never speak of this again?"
I bobbed my head as a rusty grin stretched across my face. "I want to work with you. It just took me some time to think it through."
She blew out a breath as she rubbed her belly. "Was not expecting that."
"Me neither."
With a laugh, Magnolia said, "You do realize, it's going to take you a decade to ask Jasper to marry you."
Whatever relief I felt from finally making that decision died at the mention of Jasper.
And marrying her.
Fuck. Just…fuuuuuuck.
"Oh." Magnolia frowned and it was clear she knew what happened. Maybe not the texture and dimension but enough of the shape to understand. Sometimes it helped to have a triplet who could read your mind. "I'm sorry, Lin. I didn't know."
"No one does," I said with the acrid energy of someone who'd replayed a conversation so many times the words no longer sounded real or made sense. "Happened the other night."
"Do you want to tell me what happened? I won't say anything. I'll just sit here and munch on antacids."
"Not really." I said this and I meant it but then I continued, "She got a job offer. Or an interview offer. I don't know. Whatever it is, they want her to move to California and take over a big project."
"That must be exciting for her."
"What happened to you sitting there silently and munching on your antacids?"
"Sorry. Sorry, dude, sorry. Please continue."
"Well, she was pretty excited about the whole thing." My sister cupped a hand over her mouth to suppress a laugh as she gave me told you so eyes. "I would've been excited too if she didn't hate that work. Maggie, you have no idea how much she truly detested her old job but believe me—"
"What about it? Because she came off so confident and energetic when she was here for Sunday supper. Didn't seem to detest anything."
"You don't know how to sit and listen, do you?"
"No, apparently I don't," she said with a laugh.
"Look, I don't know exactly which part she hated but I know she did. I also know this job won't be any different for her. I can tell. Plus, it's in California of all the damned places."
"Okay, first, how do you know this job will be the same? How do you know it won't relieve that one pain point that made things insufferable in the past?"
"I don't," I admitted, "but—"
"No, you can't argue that. S
mall changes can make all the difference in the world. You don't know that she needs a completely different career—"
"I do," I said under my breath.
"—and you don't know this situation won't be a dramatic improvement for her."
"Maybe not but I still think she's making a big mistake by—"
"By what?" Magnolia interrupted. "By interviewing? By considering the terms? By checking it out and getting a feel for the role? No, that's not a mistake. That's a smart girl keeping her options open."
"It's still in California," I replied.
"Which requires her to leave," Magnolia said. "Did you ask her to stay?"
I shook my head.
"Why not?"
I didn't answer for a minute. Then, "If she wants to go, I won't hold her back."
"Even if she's going to a job she will hate and moving to California of all the damned places."
I shrugged. "It's her choice."
"But you tried to talk her out of the job, no? Did I misunderstand?"
"I shared my concerns."
"Right, so, you told her it was a disaster in the making but did you tell her you wanted her to stay? That you cared about her and you wanted her in your life on a daily, in-person basis?"
It felt like I was stepping on a land mine when I replied, "No."
"Let me ask you again: Why not? And you can't say anything about holding her back because you negated all that by trying to sink the job from the start."
"Because—because I don't know. All right? I don't know. And I meant it about holding her back. I don't want her staying here for me."
Magnolia shook a few tablets from the antacid bottle. "Why not?"
"Because that's not a good enough reason to make anyone stay."
"Isn't it though?"
I stared at her, confused. "How can you even say that? I can't ask her to give up everything just because I want her with me."
"Didn't she give up everything before she met you?"
Given up or taken away, the difference was all in perspective and perspective was the only thing that mattered. "I can't ask her to stay for me," I repeated.
"I can tell you believe that but I don't think it's true. I think she needs to hear that you want her to stay. You can't leave it up to inference." Magnolia shifted and winced again. "You are a lot of great things but expressive and communicative are not among them. Tell her that you want her here and you also want to make it work with her career."
I shook my head because it wasn't that simple, it was never that simple, but my mother bustled in through the back door before I could respond. It was a good thing. I didn't want to talk about this anymore.
"Let me take those," I said to Mom, relieving her of the heavy grocery totes. "What is in here? A twenty-pound turkey?"
"A fifteen-pound chicken," she replied. "Your sister asked for my lemon roasted chicken with orzo and—"
"And she needs fifteen pounds of it?" I asked with a laugh.
"For the record, I did not ask for lemon roasted chicken with orzo. I mentioned that I'd been in the mood for orzo but I only liked it with Mom's chicken."
I gave Magnolia a smirk. "Close enough, don't you think?"
"Linden, put those cartons of milk in the fridge for me while I check your sister's blood pressure."
"Your sister's blood pressure is fine and doesn't need hourly monitoring, thank you greatly," Magnolia said. "But her foot is asleep and she could use a hand getting up so she can visit the bathroom for the second time in an hour."
Mom rushed over to help Magnolia gain her feet while I filed away the groceries. They went back and forth about how my sister was feeling, who my mother ran into at the market, what we'd do about Thanksgiving dinner, seeing as the babies would arrive by then and they, of course, changed everything.
That seemed so strange to me. I didn't know what it would be like for everything to change. As far as my life went, there wasn't much variation. Trees and forests, my family, ball games. Sex when I felt like it, adventure when I was bored. That was enough for me. It was all I needed. All I wanted.
I didn't want the most stubborn, independent woman in the world. No. Not at all.
Except I did, I wanted her very much and I wanted her to abandon her fake smiles and the affected voice and all the things that drained the range and raw beauty out of her.
I wanted her to change everything for me because of course she would, and someday, I wanted my mother to hover over her and roast a chicken simply because she mentioned it. I wanted to burn with fury because she created another hazard for herself without realizing any of it. I wanted to be driven to distraction by her inability to manage simple things like rotaries and wall paint and her simultaneous ability to pull off the impossible with little effort. I wanted to wonder what we'd do about the holidays because everything had changed, everything.
But I hadn't asked her to stay—didn't even think I could—and I was too busy scowling to go home and see about salvaging this wreck before it was too late.
I was allowed my scowl, dammit. I was allowed some bitterness, some resentment. She crashed into my world, all crowbars and chaos and that peach-sweet charm, and I was damn well entitled to snarl over the fact she picked up the mess she made of me and left.
This was her fault. She was responsible for this, for my scowling. I didn't ask for any of it. The last thing I needed was a woman who didn't notice her own apple trees. For fuck's sake. And my god, the crockpot. The fucking crockpot.
A hard, painful laugh twisted in my chest as I put the last of the groceries away. I shut the refrigerator and let my forehead fall against the cool surface. "I'm so full of shit."
"What was that?" my mother chirped. "Am I setting a place for you at the table tonight? There's plenty."
"No, I have to get back," I said, and I knew that was the right answer. Maybe not right but it was the answer. I had to get home and do something. I didn't know what but I knew it was essential.
"You're sure? It's no trouble." She paused, lifted her brows. "I haven't seen much of you lately."
"These are the consequences, Mom. You tell me to find someone special, you have to expect I'll spend time with her."
She reached for a dish towel. "It's a price I'll happily pay, my darling son."
"Anything else I can do for you while you have me here?"
"Mom!" Magnolia shouted from down the hall. "I think my water broke."
"Are you sure you didn't have a little accident? That happened to me more than once," she called back, suddenly wandering in circles around the kitchen.
She opened the oven, closed it. Opened the freezer, closed it. I watched, not sure what I was supposed to do in this situation.
"Mom! I would know if I had a little accident, don't you think?"
"I said the same thing," my mother replied, now opening the cupboards and drawers. "They sent me home from the hospital twice and told me to stop thinking my water broke every time I sneezed too hard."
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
She waved my question away. "Oh, nothing, honey, nothing. Just my phone. And my keys. Yes, I'm sure I left them around here. I should call your father. But he's at the golf course and you know he never takes his phone out with him. So, I'll have to call the course. And Rob! Good grief, he's in New York City. I don't even know who to call there. I have a friend, Eleanor Greene, who lives in New York City. But I haven't spoken to her in ages. She's such a complainer. Everything is a problem with her. That's why I don't call." Her keys and phone were on the small table beside the back door as always. "And my pocketbook, I'm looking for my pocketbook. I'm sure it's around here."
I blinked at her for a second. "Okay. You keep looking. I'll just check on Maggie." Around the corner, I found the door to the under-the-stairs powder room open and my sister tossing hand towels on the floor. "Everything all right?"
She pressed her foot to one of the towels and moved it around the floor. "Everything will be fine," she replied with
forced calm. "Mom's flipping out, isn't she?"
I glanced back in the direction of the rattling pots and pans. My mother operated on three speeds: steamroller, scatterbrained, or stoned. There were no other options—I'd looked—but there were mix-and-match combos. She could be stoned and steamrolling, as was often the case, or stoned and scatterbrained. I didn't think she was stoned right now but she was running at max scatterbrained. "Not more than I'd expect."
"I knew I should've stayed with Zelda today," she murmured. "She was in class until four and I didn't want to bother her with exams coming up but at least I'd know she wouldn't lose her shit when it was go-time." She glanced up from her pile of tiny towels. "Everything will be fine."
I heard more clanging from the kitchen and a slammed door, which had me smothering a laugh while I rubbed my temples. My sister was having babies, my mother was panicking, and Jasper needed me to fight for her.
I asked for none of this.
Not one bit.
And yet— "Do you think you can make it into my truck? Is it too high for you to climb in?"
Magnolia pressed a hand to her lower back. "If you give me a hand, I'm sure it will be all right."
"And you can tell me where you need to go?"
She nodded. "Yeah. For sure. But you don't—"
"You really think I'd leave you here with Mom while she roots through the frying pans for her phone? Not a chance. We're feeding her some weed gummies and getting you to the hospital before anything else happens."
"What about Jasper? You need to talk to her."
I brought an arm around Magnolia's shoulders and led her out of the bathroom. "I'll talk to her later. Or tomorrow. I know she'll understand this."
We entered the kitchen to find Mom with her arm elbow deep in a bag of flour.
"We are not baking right now, Grandma," Magnolia said. "It's baby time. My husband is a four-hour train ride away and I had five more days to prepare and I didn't get the lemon chicken and orzo like I really wanted but it is baby time. Remove yourself from the flour."
"I thought I might've dropped my phone," she replied. "The last time I had it, I was thinking about baking some chocolate chip cookies but I don't think it's in here."
The Belle and the Beard Page 32
