Patrick’s truck pulled in behind her SUV as she was lifting another box from the trunk.
“I thought you were going to call me.”
“I just got here five minutes ago.”
“Need some help?” he asked.
“Thanks. I only have two more boxes. They’re not heavy.”
He took the box from her and had her place another on top. “I’ll get these. You get the last one.” His eyes scanned the stacks of boxes along the wall in the living room. “Are you moving back here permanently?”
“No. I closed up the house and had some things shipped. I just got here, actually. I was going to make a cup of tea. You interested?”
“Sure. I guess you got Dad’s dinner invitation?”
“I did. It was sweet of him to think of me.”
“So, you’ll come?”
She filled the teakettle and put it on the stove, turned on the gas beneath it. “Yes. I’d like to.” A communal dinner in a sterile environment just might make Thanksgiving manageable. “How is he?”
“He’s bedridden now. Had another small stroke night before last and his left side is completely paralyzed.” His voice broke.
Jenny pressed a palm to her chest. “Oh, Patrick. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you needed to take care of business in Boston, and there was nothing you could do. Dad can’t speak, either. But when they gave us the invitation for Thanksgiving Dinner, he got agitated, waving his right hand around. I gave him a tablet, and he scribbled the letter ‘J’. I knew what he meant. When I asked if he wanted me to invite you, he smiled—sort of.”
“This is a big setback for him. It has to be hard on you, too.”
Patrick shrugged. “It changes a few things, but he’s my dad. I’ll do what I have to.” He paused then asked, “How was it in Boston? I was worried about you. If it weren’t for Dad, I’d have been there, regardless of your protests.”
“I’m sorry Ashley called you. I’m okay.” She leaned against the sink. “It was hard. Those boxes in there are all I’m keeping. I’m putting the house up for sale.”
“So you’ll be staying here permanently?”
She poured the boiling water into the mugs and set one in front of him. “I doubt it, but I could never live in that house again. Maybe it’s time to make a break, go somewhere else.” She sat down.
Patrick dunked a teabag into the hot water. “What do you want to do?”
She glanced at him. “I want to stop.”
He cocked his head. “Stop…what?”
“Just stop.” She ran fingers through her hair. “I got some things clear in my head while I was away.”
He nodded, blowing the steam from his tea.
“I talked with someone. A priest. You’d like Gavin, I think.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Gavin?”
“He’s a bit unorthodox. But he helped me see some things clearly. You were right that day in the coffee shop.”
“I was?”
“Don’t look so surprised. You’re often right. When you said I’m running, you were right.”
He set down the mug. “Jenny, I was upset that day. I have no right to judge how you’re coping. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”
“I’ve been running from myself. And I’ve been hiding behind this guilt.”
He sat, staring at the table, toying with his spoon.
She sucked in a deep breath, but continued. “It’s been arrogant of me to refuse your forgiveness. I didn’t really know why it was so hard. But now I think I understand.”
“You do?”
She nodded. “I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not. I’m afraid of…” She stopped and closed her eyes, then steadied her gaze on him. She needed to look him in the eye and speak the truth. “I’m afraid of losing you again. We’ve always been connected, Patrick. As playmates, as friends, as a couple, and even as ex-lovers connected by history. Anger and guilt have held us together in some form of distorted relationship for nine years. If we don’t have that—”
“Then what do we have?” He stood and rounded the table, crouching in front of her. He clasped her hands. “Jenny, we have this. We have a friendship that’s survived when most would have crumbled.”
She bowed her head and sniffled. “I don’t deserve you.”
He grinned. “Maybe not, but we’re friends. You’re stuck with me.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’ll see you on Thursday. Pick you up around four?”
****
Thanksgiving was a solemn occasion. Jenny sat with Patrick beside Mike’s bed. Patrick talked to his father is if the man understood every word. Mike stared back through rheumy, heavy-lidded eyes, without a single blink of recognition. Mike was unable to eat solid foods and received nourishment through a temporary feeding tube. Patrick suggested he and Jenny skip the family dinner in the facility’s dining room. “I’ll take you to the Bay House for dinner. Then I can drop you at home before I come back here for the evening.”
She covered his hand with hers. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do.” His eyes pleaded for a reason to get out of there for a while.
Remembering endless hours at her grandmother’s bedside when she would have given anything for a reason to take a break, she said, “Dinner, then.” She leaned forward, smiling at Mike. “I’ll be back to visit again.” She halfway stood and bent to kiss the older man’s forehead.
When she stepped back, Patrick leaned over his father. “I’m taking Jenny to get some dinner, Dad, then I’ll be back.” He kissed his father’s cheek and, when he turned to leave, tears clouded his eyes.
Jenny held his hand and squeezed. “I know how hard this is. You really don’t have to take me to dinner.”
He released her hand and strode to the door. “I have to get out of here for a little while.”
****
Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Jenny saw little of Patrick. He had made two short trips to the Caymans to check on his business there. Jenny had taken on more work for Harbor Lights. She traveled to Boston every couple of weeks for a few days. Each time, she visited with Gavin. And with each return to Miley’s Cove, she felt a little lighter, more like her old self.
Maybe it was time to take some initiative. She picked up the phone and punched in Patrick’s cell number.
“Hey, stranger.” He sounded happy to hear from her.
“Me? How about you?” Then remembering the changes she had noticed in Mike during her last visit, she asked, “How’s your Dad?”
He sighed. “Losing ground, I’m afraid.”
“I visited day before yesterday. I’m not sure he recognized me, though.”
“I think he knows, but can’t respond. Anyway, how are you?”
She settled into the recliner, its soft fabric wrapping around her. “Taking a break from work. I’m trying to get several manuscripts out before the holidays. I was wondering if…if you’d like to come for Christmas dinner.”
“Christmas? Is it that time already?”
“Next Thursday, less than a week.”
“I’ve lost track of time, it seems. Um…sure. Yes, I’d like that.”
“It won’t be anything fancy. After dinner, I’ll go with you to see your dad, if that’s okay.”
“He’ll enjoy seeing you. I’ll appreciate it, too. Can I bring anything for dinner?”
“Just an appetite. I’m making a ham.” She hesitated then asked, “Do you want to invite Jack to join us?”
“Nah, let him get his own date.”
Date? She bit her lip. “Okay, so come around three. We can eat early, then head to Rockland.”
“Thanks, Jen. I’m sorry I haven’t called.”
“I understand. We’ll catch up over dinner.”
****
Jenny’s heart was not in decorating, and there was no way she could bring herself to put up a Christmas tree. She rummaged thro
ugh the boxes of ornaments her grandmother had stored in the back of the closet. Unwrapping a few figures of snowmen and angels and the old electric candles her grandmother had always set in the windows, she closed the box again. These would be sufficient to recognize the season.
Wrapped packages sat propped against the wall beside the hearth. After arranging the few decorations, she grabbed her keys and shopping list from the table. Two days before Christmas—the grocery store would be a madhouse.
As she anticipated, the parking lot of the Wal-Mart Super Center was nearly filled to capacity. She saw a car backing up and gunned it to get the space at the far end of the lot. Inside the store, she had to wait for a shopping cart. She was backing up to turn around after dropping a whole ham into the cart when she bumped into someone.
“Oops, sorry.”
“Jen?”
Shelly stood there with her two daughters.
“Hey, watch where you’re going.” Jenny laughed and hugged her friend. “Hi, girls. You ready for Santa’s visit?”
The younger girl grinned and nodded vigorously. “And I’ve been extra good, haven’t I, Mommy?”
Shelly cupped the child’s chin with her hand. “You have been extraordinary.” She turned back to Jenny. “I was going to call and invite you over for Christmas, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready for all that family stuff.”
“Thanks. This is going to be a tough one. I think it’s best I stay home.” Her throat clogged, and she swallowed hard.
“Tell me you’re not going to sit in that cottage alone.”
“Actually, I invited Patrick for dinner. He spends every waking hour sitting with his dad at the nursing home. I thought it would give him a break.”
“I’m glad you called him. Did you get my messages?”
“I did. I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with work.”
Shelly cocked her head. “Hey, how about New Year’s Eve? You and Patrick come to the house. I’m shipping these monkeys off to their grandparents for the night. It’ll just be the four of us. No big party.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. Dinner, a few laughs, a toast to the New Year. Please? Otherwise, it’ll just be me and Greg and, after all these years, we’ve about run out of things to talk about.”
Jenny chuckled. “Okay, if it’ll help you out.”
“Great. I’ll call Patrick later and extend the invitation to him.” She hugged Jenny. “Let’s get together for coffee soon, maybe take a drive down to Freeport for the after-Christmas sales?”
“I’d like that.” Jenny glanced at the two girls, dancing impatiently beside their mother’s shopping cart. “I hope you girls get exactly what you asked Santa for.”
Shelly rolled her eyes and whispered, “I hope they don’t. They want a dog.” She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the cart. “Come on, kids. We’re just about finished. See ya’,” she called back to Jenny.
New Year’s Eve. What was she thinking? A cozy dinner with Patrick and a happily married couple. Maybe Patrick would decline the invitation and want to spend the evening with his father. A New Year. It was and it wasn’t. It was less than nine months since her life had tragically changed. Not quite a year. And, yet, some part of her yearned for something new. First, though, she needed to get through Christmas.
Patrick called that evening. “Jen, do you mind if I bring someone with me for dinner? I would’ve asked sooner, but I didn’t think she’d be here for Christmas.”
She? “Sure. That’s fine. Is it anyone I know?”
“Her name’s Kari. She’s…my daughter.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jenny stared at the child in Patrick’s arms. The little girl with dark brown curls, mocha skin, and chocolaty brown eyes wriggled. “Down.”
“This is Kari,” Patrick said.
“Here, let me take her while you remove your jacket.” She reached for Kari who regarded her with a frown.
“She’s a little shy.” He set Kari on her feet.
The little girl grabbed a fistful of Patrick’s pant leg when Jenny knelt and unzipped the pink parka.
Jenny smiled. “She’s beautiful. How old are you, Kari?”
The girl struggled to display three fingers.”
“Three? Wow, you’re a big girl,” Jenny said.
“Not quite three yet. I should have told you about her sooner,” Patrick said.
“It’s alright.” She tried to sound calm while her heart pounded in her chest. Jenny pulled off the child’s heavy jacket. “There you are.”
Kari backed up, coiling a chubby arm around Patrick’s leg and stuffing her free fist into her mouth.
Jenny took Patrick’s jacket and hung both on a hook behind the door. “Come to the kitchen. I need to check the ham.”
“Can I help with anything?” He took Kari’s hand.
Jenny wrapped one of her grandmother’s aprons around her. “Not a thing. I have it all under control. See, and you were worried at one time that I’d never learn to cook.”
“If this meal tastes as good as it smells, I will happily take that back.”
“There are cold sodas in the fridge if you want one. And there’s milk or juice for Kari.”
“Thanks.” He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a Coke. “Kari, do you want some apple juice?”
Kari nodded, her eyes drifting from him to fix on Jenny. He retrieved the child’s plastic cup from the bag he’d brought inside and filled it with juice, then settled her at the table. “I think Dad recognized your name when I told him we were leaving to come to dinner. But maybe I’m reading too much into his blinking.”
“This has to be wearing on you. With my grandparents, it was different. They didn’t linger.” She gazed at the child. “She must have brightened up his day, though.”
Patrick ran his fingers through his daughter’s ebony curls. “She did. He’s only seen her once before when I convinced him to fly down to the Cayman’s after she was born.”
Jenny turned back to the stove, a rush of emotion filling her chest. “Where’s her mother?”
“London. She was offered a modeling job and having a child with her isn’t convenient. We’re not married, by the way.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Jen, it was a brief thing. We didn’t plan on a family, a future. Jaclyn has primary custody, but she left Kari with her parents when she went to London. Now she’s offering me full custody.”
“How could she just walk away from such a beautiful child?” Jenny’s mother had left when she was just an infant, younger than Kari. The wound left by that breach had never completely healed and easily split open again. She would never have chosen to let go of Cooper. But she wasn’t given the choice.
Patrick stared at Jenny. “I shouldn’t have brought her here today. This is too much for you.”
“No, it isn’t. Patrick, I can’t hold every child responsible for my loss and pain. She’s sweet and she looks like you.”
“You think so?” He glanced down at his daughter. “She has her mother’s coloring, except for my dark hair. Jaclyn is Jamaican.” He nudged the little girl’s arm. “Are you going to speak to Daddy’s friend Jenny and say ‘hi’?”
Kari peered at Jenny over the top of the plastic-lidded cup. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi, Kari.” Jenny squatted down beside the girl. “I’m glad you came with your daddy today. I think Santa left something here for you.”
The little girl grinned. “Where?”
“You’ll see after dinner.” Patrick found a few pillows to create a booster seat for Kari. Jenny sat opposite him at the table. “I think I have a buyer for the house in Boston,” she said.
“Good. I mean, that is good, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I need some kind of closure. Selling the house would be a start.”
He drained the soda can and crunched the soft aluminum in his fist before tossing it into the recycling bag. “I left your present next to the other gifts in the living room.”
“A present? You didn’t have to shop for me.”
“It’s Christmas. And I thought…well…neither of us would be getting many gifts this year. Besides, I wanted to give you something.” He took in a breath and exhaled. “This is nice, being here today. Reminds me of my childhood.”
“Yeah. Those were great times. It’s not the same without Grandma’s assortment of baked goods lining the counter, and Grandpa’s pipe. Cherry tobacco. I miss that smell so much. Miss them.”
He surveyed the table. “Are you expecting the Russian army?”
“I shopped late. That ham was all they had left. Look on the bright side—you’ll have enough leftovers to provide sandwiches until April.”
Dinner conversation centered on reminiscences of the past. She carefully dodged any discussion of their relationship, and he seemed to do the same.
Kari warmed up to Jenny a little during dinner, at least responding to her questions with a nod. While they ate apple pie, Kari slid down from her chair and rounded the table to tap Jenny on the leg. “Potty.”
Patrick tossed his napkin onto the table. “I’ll take her.”
But Kari tugged on Jenny’s sweater sleeve. “No. Zenny.”
Jenny smiled. “You want me to take you to the potty?”
Kari nodded.
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “She’s not like this with everyone. She’s been kind of withdrawn since Jaclyn left. I think she’s missing her mother.”
Jenny stood and grasped Kari’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”
When Jenny returned carrying the smiling toddler, Patrick said, “Shelly called me about going to her house for New Year’s Eve. Are you going?”
She nodded. “I thought I would, at least for a little while. Better that than sit here feeling sorry for myself. Are you going?”
“Yep. Same reason.” He grinned. “Misery loves company.”
“What about Kari?”
“My aunt is going to keep her overnight. Kari has really taken to her. Shall I pick you up?”
“I can drive.”
“I know you can. But since we’re both going, why take two vehicles?”
Act of Contrition Page 12
