by Kim Law
“Yet she waits here for another man.”
“I wish I knew who it was.”
The music went off then, and they both looked at the corner.
“Do you think she’s crying?” Jill whispered. “It feels so sad in here.”
“It always feels sad in here.” He kissed her on the forehead, and reached for the envelope he’d tucked into his jeans. When he pulled it out, he removed the aged photo stored inside. “Her niece sent me this.”
He held out the snapshot of a time in a woman’s life when she’d looked to be full of joy.
“Her name was Marie.”
He studied the picture of Marie Wainwright while Jill did the same, and felt his heart clench in his chest. The woman in the picture was in her midforties, beautiful, and laughing up at the camera. Everything on the surface read pleasure. Yet there was much more to the photo.
“Look at her eyes,” he said.
“I see them.”
The eyes in the photo seemed filled with grief.
Jill lifted to her elbow. “I feel like this woman has become your friend.”
He felt the same way. “I do talk to her almost as much as I do my cat.”
She laughed. “I still can’t believe you have a cat. So, you talk to dead women and cats? How did I never know this about you before?”
“Because neither of them had chosen me before.” He nodded toward the corner. “She started this, not me. I tried to ignore her for days.”
“And then you brought me into it.” Jill cast a quick glance at the corner, but it remained silent. “And the cat?” She turned back to him.
“Lily showed up at the house one day and insisted I let her in.”
“That makes sense. I’ve heard women do that to you.”
He pinched her butt.
“Hey,” she yelped. “I’m just calling them as I see them. So this cat—”
“Lily.”
“Sorry. Lily. How long ago did Lily choose you?”
“Seven years.”
“Wow.” Jill pushed to a sitting position. “And she hasn’t dumped you yet?”
He shot her a “touché” look, and sat up to join her. They weren’t in front of the window, so they should be safe from prying eyes. He disposed of the condom into an empty food container, and made a quick dash out of the room to wash his hands. When he returned, he settled beside her on the floor, inordinately pleased that she remained naked, and pulled the remains of their dinner over to them. He tugged apart a bunch of grapes and handed them over.
“I’m sure the day will come when she’ll have had enough of me,” he said, picking up where they’d left off. “But Lily’s got more stubborn in her than some of the females I’ve known.”
“Ah. So, that’s what it takes to keep you? Stubbornness?”
His fingers slowed as he popped a grape in his mouth. Did she want to keep him?
“Wait until I tell all the women in town,” she continued, and he started to breathe again. “They’ve been trying to figure out the secret for years.”
Cal ignored her, and continued feasting on his grapes. He didn’t want to talk about other women. And he didn’t want to think about when Jill would be just like them and move along to someone else. Because he didn’t doubt that she would. Hadn’t she already pushed him away once?
He wouldn’t be enough for her now, any more than he had been then.
“Can I ask you something, Cal?”
This time, he popped a grape into her mouth. “You can ask me anything.”
“Am I the only person you’ve ever dumped?”
His fingers slowed once again.
“You said Marci dumped you.” She kept her eyes on his. “And that all the women you date eventually do. Yet you dumped me.”
“I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“So then, does that mean yes?” She gave him a nervous smile. “I’m the only one?”
He didn’t want to lie, but she had a point. Even when they’d dated as teenagers, he’d only had a couple of “girlfriends” before that. And both of them had been the ones to eventually move on. “I suppose you are.”
“Ouch.” She exaggerated the word.
“I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“Then how would you take it?”
He had the thought that she should take it that he’d cared enough to end it for her.
He didn’t say that, though, but the sentiment was legit. His role models were his dad and his uncle. And neither was a catch. His dad had gotten married once, when Cal had been a kid. It had lasted a year. Since then, Neil offered baubles instead of wedding rings. Even upgrading the jewelry if the woman stuck around for a given period of time. But even then, it was Cal’s understanding that the women were always the ones to leave.
His uncle had married three times and had promptly run them all off.
So how much could Cal truly give a woman?
He wanted to give more. Just as he wanted more in return. Jill had asked why he hadn’t moved into his home yet. Why no one even knew about the ranch. He’d brought those questions out several times since she’d put them out there, and he’d even come up with answers.
He’d bought the home because it reminded him of the love his grandparents had shared.
He’d told no one because that kind of love wasn’t real. Not for him.
The reality was, he should sell the place. Forget the idea he’d had of turning it into a working ranch someday, pack up his workshop, and make a nice buck after the renovations he’d put into the house. But he wasn’t ready to sell yet.
He looked away from Jill’s waiting gaze, and he let the other question she’d asked run through his mind. A question he’d been avoiding until now.
Did he have a fear of being alone?
Yes.
He closed his eyes with the answer. He hadn’t realized that. And now that he’d put his uncle in rehab, that’s exactly what he was. Alone.
He’d dumped Jill years ago because she hadn’t loved him enough. He’d dumped her because if he hadn’t, she would have eventually left him. Even if he had gone to LA with her. Because he would never be enough.
He looked at her. “You said recently that you want us to be real with each other.”
“I did.”
“Then I’ll tell you that I left that day because I knew you didn’t love me enough.”
She leaned away from him. “And how did you come to that?”
“Because you wouldn’t come home with me.” He heard the accusation in the words, and the adult him knew it wasn’t fair. She should have been allowed her own dreams. But dammit, he’d wanted her dream to be him.
“I guess that lack of love rolled two ways,” Jill finally replied.
He swallowed, feeling as if the last grape he’d eaten had gotten stuck in his throat. “I suppose it did.” He reached for his shirt and held it out to her. “Here. Put this on. I feel like I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
She took the shirt and pulled it over her head, and it pooled at the tops of her thighs. She didn’t get up and leave, though, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had.
“Have I made you too uncomfortable?”
“No.” There was wariness in her eyes, though. As if she was uncertain what would come next.
“Then since we’re being so real, can I ask you something?”
She wanted to run. He could sense it in her.
She nodded instead, and he said, “Will you talk to me about your mom?”
That one did take her to her feet. “No.”
“Come on, Jilly.” Cal held out his hand to her. “We’re being real, remember?”
“And I really don’t want to talk about my mother. Why would you even bring that up? Plus, you know everything already. I told you the whole story a long time ago.”
“But don’t you eventually have to deal with it?”
“Deal with what?”
She stood there, her arms wrapped around
herself, and Cal motioned with his fingers. His arm remained outstretched. He knew she needed to go there. It had been long enough. “Sit with me. It’ll be okay.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes not leaving his, but she finally took his hand. She let him pull her back to the floor, and she sat facing him, her knees bent to her chest, her arms around her knees.
“You’re still mad at her,” he said.
She started to shake her head, and he added, “If you can work on getting past your anger with me, then why not work on this, too? You need to—”
“Stop,” she whispered.
So he stopped. He waited.
She pulled in several breaths, and then finally, she spoke. “I’ve tried to, okay? But I can’t move past that one.”
“Any idea what’s holding you back?”
When she started to look away, he took her hand, and she brought her gaze back to him. She glared at him, demanding he back off. But he didn’t budge. She’d do the same for him.
Finally, she caved. “I’m scared that I’m like her. How’s that for an answer? She was a needy woman. My whole life, she needed a man, she needed me to hold her hand when she didn’t have a man. And she just plain needed everyone to know that she was needy.”
Her voice had climbed with her words, and as Cal had listened, he’d stared in surprise.
“You think you’re needy?” he asked. “Honey. I’ve never seen anyone who needs another person less.”
“Okay. Then how about the fact that she was prone to trying to kill herself?”
Cal went still. “Are you saying that you’re like that?”
She gave a little shrug. “I already tried it once, didn’t I?”
She’d told him about the day Blu had showed up to get her. The police had called in a suicide at the apartment where Jill lived, and Blu had overheard it on the police scanner her husband once owned. She’d recognized the address and jumped in her car.
“You were in shock that day, Jilly.” Cal spoke carefully, hoping she would actually hear the words he was saying. What she’d considered doing in that one moment of time did not define her. “And you were only fourteen. You were a child.” He gripped her hands now. “You blamed yourself for your mother’s death—which was not your fault, by the way.”
“But I—”
“No.” He instinctively understood what she’d been about to say. “You did nothing wrong. You were not in charge of your mother’s actions.”
“But I told her to do it.” Panic flashed through her eyes. “I left her in the apartment alone that afternoon. I’d never left her before when she was like that. And then she did it!”
“And that’s a horrible thing for a person to go through. But she did it, Jilly. Not you.”
Jill stared at him, hard and unblinking. Then she jerked her hands out of his grip and rewrapped them around her legs. Her chest rose and fell with her breaths. “I know she was the one who did it,” she gritted out. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve thought about it. I know I was just a kid. She was the adult. I get all of that. But I was all she had.” Jill stabbed her finger at her chest. “Me. And I failed her.”
“Or maybe she was all you had? And she failed you?”
“No.” She shook her head in denial.
“Why not?”
“Because I should have been there!”
Tears welled in her eyes, but Cal didn’t reach for her. He didn’t want to interrupt the moment. She needed to get it out.
“I know she had issues. I get that. She didn’t kill herself to spite me. Or, at least . . . I don’t think she did. She couldn’t handle being let down. And she’d been let down in the worst way that day. Her husband left her. I walked out when she needed my support. And the thing is, I don’t handle being let down easy, either.” Her eyes went flat. “I lose my shit when things happen, remember? So, what if I have the same issues? The same inability to cope? What if there’s a straightedge lying around someday, and I—”
“Jill.” He bit the word out hard to get her attention.
“What?”
He hated seeing her this way. She was so much more. “Have you ever tried it again? Since that day when you were fourteen? Have you ever attempted to kill yourself?”
She hadn’t actually attempted it that day, Cal knew. But if Blu had been just a few minutes longer . . .
“No.” Jill shook her head.
“Not even when I left you? What happened the day I left you? When you came back to the hotel and I was gone? What did you feel?”
“I felt that I wanted to kick your ass.”
He cupped her cheek, his heart racing but relief flooding through him. “That’s my girl,” he whispered. He stroked his thumb over her skin. “No thoughts of suicide that day, right?”
“No, but . . .”
He could see her thinking as her words trailed off, so he let her go with it.
Eventually, he nudged her for more. “And what about when you left Hollywood? Or any time while you were in Hollywood? All those nos you kept hearing? All those times your anger got the best of you? Anything then?”
She shook her head.
“That’s because you’re strong, babe.” He pulled her into his lap. “So strong. Not needy. Not unstable.” He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her, and as he held her, he began to rock her back and forth.
After several minutes, she looked at him. “I did think about it that last day in Hollywood.”
Cal hurt for her, but he also understood who she was as a person. She wouldn’t have gone through with it.
“It was a fleeting thought,” she explained. “But it did cross my mind.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened. I was already on the bus heading home. I thought about my mother. About how she handled failure.” She watched him as carefully as he watched her. “So, it crossed my mind. But really, kill myself on a bus? Who does that? And it would’ve been doubly insulting if I made it all the way home, let everyone see that I was no better off than when I’d left, and then I did it.”
He didn’t mean to laugh, but he did. He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Jill. You’re so strong. So . . .”
Mine, he wanted to say. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t know if he could keep her.
He tucked her back against his chest, and music once again began filtering out of the small radio. It played “I Got You, Babe,” and Cal let out another chuckle. “I’m going to miss her when this is over.”
He felt Jill’s lips curve against his chest, and he realized he was still naked. “If only you could take her with you, huh?”
Cal smiled with Jill, and then he looked over at the corner. At least then he wouldn’t be alone. “What do you say, Mrs. W? We’re nearing the end.” The Raineses would be back in four days to announce the winner after the parade. “Want to go home with me when this thing is over?”
The piano tune that he found so sad began playing, and the sound of it had Jill catching her breath. “What is that? I heard it the first time I was over here. It’s so forlorn.”
“I have no idea, but she plays it on a regular basis. I wish I knew what it meant to her.”
“I wish she’d never been that sad.”
“True.” Cal kissed Jill again, suddenly tired of all this “being real.” He just wanted to be. “Make love to me again, Jilly,” he whispered against her lips. “I can’t get enough of you.”
She nodded without hesitation. She apparently needed no further encouragement.
Chapter Nineteen
“Never settle for fine.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #50
Be careful.
Trenton’s words from almost two weeks before continued to echo in Jill’s head, and Jill couldn’t say that she’d actually once “been careful.” What she’d been was happy. Nothing had been mentioned about futures or feelings between her and Cal, and she was f
ine with that. Mostly. She’d just been going with it and having a great time.
Only, the thrill of a lust-filled romance had slowly morphed, and what remained in its place was now hope. As well as terror. Because she still had no clue what she was doing.
She didn’t know if she was being blind to reality, due solely to her sex life being active—and amazing—for the first time in her adult life. Lust had a way of doing that to a person, she understood. Or if there was something more meaningful really going on between her and Cal. It felt as if there was. It felt like maybe they could make this thing between them work.
And when she allowed herself to be as honest as possible, she admitted that she wanted it to work. But it also felt as if their time would soon be up. A choice would have to be made, and she had no idea which way Cal would fall.
She waved at a group of women standing by the side of the road and tossed out a handful of candy. The parade was in full swing, and they were nearing the turn for Pear Street.
“I’m so nervous,” Heather shouted beside her, trying to be heard above the high school marching band. Her auburn hair gleamed around her shoulders, and her dimples seemed an inch deep today.
“Nothing we can do now but wait,” Trenton replied.
Another crowd of women cheered as the Bluebonnet Construction float passed in front of them, and Jill, Heather, and Trenton, along with the entire group of ladies who’d helped over the past six weeks, waved and smiled. The whole town would soon know who would be named the winner, and Jill couldn’t contain the excitement that it very possibly could be them. They’d done an outstanding job with the Bono House. She couldn’t be more proud.
Marci lifted a hand from her spot on the sidewalk, and Jill forgot her animosity with the other woman long enough to return the greeting. In fact, she felt for the other woman at that point. Because Jill knew she might be in the he-doesn’t-care-enough club along with Marci and the rest of them soon enough.
“We’re making the turn,” Heather squealed.
Jill looked up ahead. Along with the band, cheerleaders, three Boy Scout packs, and a selection of city officials, Cal and his team were also up there. Behind Jill were more city officials, the Lions Club, 4-H, two Girl Scout troops, and a dance team. And pulling up the rear was everyone from the production crew, as well as Bob and Debra Raines. Bob and Debra stood at the helm of the fire truck, and the majority of the town had fallen in line behind the parade.
