by HJ Bellus
Yesterday
is Gone
By HJ Bellus
Yesterday is Gone
Copyright © 2018 by HJ Bellus.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: September 2018
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-422-8
ISBN-10: 1-64034-422-5
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To all of those who are brave enough to give second chances one final shot.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Prologue
Jules
“I give you the class of…”
Everything blurs in and out. The other sixty students stand and toss their caps in their air. Mine remains on my head. There’s nothing to celebrate. My future was crushed with a few ignorant words. This can’t happen. It will ruin everything. Fuck, Jules, take care of it.
It was in that moment everything crystalized, picture perfect. I’d take care of it. Jessie would be free to conquer the world like he’d been destined to do. His cold and calculated words strike my heart with each beat. Never would I think my best friend and the love of my life would handle the news this way. We’ve been by each other’s sides since kindergarten.
Jessie is laser-focused on his full-ride football scholarship to Michigan. It’s no excuse. He crushed me without a second thought. Each word of my valedictorian speech was muted with heartache and sorrow. It was the moment I’d been looking forward to since my freshman year.
The only thing that got me through it was my Nanny Jane. She is the one person who has always loved me without a second thought. Papa Jack beamed as wide as she did watching me deliver my speech. I kept focused on their two loving faces.
She took me in when my mom gave me up. It seems I’m repeating the cycle getting knocked up in high school. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. My current situation isn’t too far off from my beginning.
Nanny’s son, Dalton, enlisted in the Army and shipped off right after graduation. His high school sweetheart, Hailey, wanted nothing to do with the child growing in her womb. Nanny supported her the full nine months and then adopted me. She gained a new granddaughter and lost her only son to war all in the same year.
“Hey, ready to go to the lock-in party?” Tessi nudges my shoulder, bouncing up and down on her stilettos.
I shake my head. “I’m not feeling good. Nanny and Papa have a small party set up for me at home.”
It’s a lie. There’s no party. I’d planned on going to the lock-in, spending the entire night in Jessie’s arms.
“Are you okay?” Tessi’s face turns concerned for a few seconds.
I nod, swallowing down all the shame and pain. “I’m fine. Want to get in all the time with them before Jessie and I head to Michigan.”
“That’s next week, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, sister, you better schedule me in for some time, too.” She kisses my cheek and takes off without a care or worry in the world.
That should be me.
Clutching my diploma in my hand, I weave through the crowd with my head ducked down. A few family friends pat me on the back and stop me for a hug.
“There she is.” Carolyn scoops me up in a hug. “Wanted to snap a picture of you and Jessie before you head out.”
I look up to Jessie standing in front of me, his strong jawline taut and his eyes full of remorse. Words can never be taken back. He may be regretting them, but it’s too late.
“Now, get together.” Carolyn nudges us. “We need Tessi and Brady. Where did those two run off to?”
“You’re not going to find them in this crowded gym, honey. Just take the picture. The gang will be home every school break, and you can get their picture then,” Jessie’s dad grumbles clearly over the noise and the stifling heat in the gymnasium.
The gang. Everything is ending tonight. Tessi, my best friend, Brady, Jessie’s best, and the two of us are tight. Even though Tessi and Brady can’t stand each other most of the time, anyone could find the four of us causing trouble all over town and having a damn good time.
Jessie slings an arm over my shoulders. His rich musky and woodsy scent showers down on me. I find myself cuddling into his side for one last memory. I battle the tears back. It’s a losing war. I glance up to Jessie’s whiskey-colored eyes. The ones that have loved me and kept me safe over the years. It’s almost as if he’s a stranger to me now.
His thick dark hair is tousled, his graduation cap missing, tossed in the sea of the rest of them, and his dimples are on full display. It’s not a happy moment for me. It’s a goodbye. Jessie leans down and glides his lips over my forehead before placing a gentle kiss.
Then his lips are at the shell of my ear. He kisses me lightly there, too.
“Jules, I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. This isn’t the right time. God, this is killing me.”
This isn’t my Jessie talking to me right now. Greed and a taste of the limelight have destroyed him. He’s not thinking straight. I could beg and plead him. The thing is you can never take back words, and he struck me with the worst of them. He made it clear where I stand as he starts his new journey in life.
I reach up on my tiptoes and leave one long, lingering kiss on his lips before walking away. He grabs my hand pulling me back to him; his strong arms wrap around me, tugging me to his chest.
“Take care of it and come to Michigan. I need you, Jules.”
Lifelong love turns to hate in a matter of seconds. I plant my palms on his chest and shove off him.
“Best of luck in life, Jessie.”
I don’t let one single tear fall until I’m in the dark of the parking lot. And I don’t stop until they dry up.
Chapter 1
Jules
Every flag on Main Street is half-staff in honor of the late Senator Jack Jones, the reason I’m back in my hometown. It’s been over five years since I left the night of graduation and never looked back.
My chest tightens as each flag goes by. The tears of sorrow I’ve held back fall freely. Papa Jack will forever be missed. He loved visiting California every month even though he pissed and moaned about all the damn traffic and people. It was when he was on the beach with Nana’s at their beach house and at peace with a smile consuming his face that I knew it was all smoke.
“What in the hell is going on there?” I whisper to myself.
The parking lot to Gravy Dave’s is overflowin
g with vehicles. Shit, cars even line Main Street. Somebody is having one hell of a celebration. I let out a rush of breath, thankful it’s dark. I’m not ready for this. The sad fact is I’ll never be prepared for it.
Everything looks the same and different at the same time. I slow down, taking it all in. The movie theater is boarded up. The marquee light flickers dimly, advertising the upcoming county fair and rodeo in one month. Even in the faint glow of the street lights, I can see the beauty of the blossoming petunia baskets that adorn each pole on the main drag.
Old memories of cruising Main in my old ’79 Chevy attack me. Even though I don’t want to smile, I find myself doing so. This town was my everything at one point in time. It seems it can pull me right back in, making me feel like a teenager at heart. The only beauty shop in town, Solutions, comes into view. The same tacky sign from the ’80s remains bold in a fresh coat of paint.
I learned several lessons in that old building, from you never look like the picture in the magazine to how to roll a condom on a dick. I snort, thinking to myself how I miserably failed that lesson.
The other part of Main Street that makes me sick, besides the half-staff flags, is that the old “O-So-Good” drive-in had been refurbished into a credit union. It was the hopping place we all swarmed to after every football victory. The owner insisted on curbside service complete with the trays that rested on our windows. Every time we’d end up on Jessie’s tailgate, swarmed by friends and sipping on ice cold sodas.
The soft glow of street lights fades off into the distance as I hit the country roads, buzzing by the familiar lights of farms and homes. The years have drifted by, yet I can put a name to every home. Before too long, Jessie’s old home flies by, and then I’m pulling down the mile-long drive to my childhood home. Papa’s old red truck is parked in his spot right outside the garage. He’s always had so much junk in there that I never remember a time anyone could park in it. Nana’s white Cadillac dutifully sits next to Papa’s truck.
The pang of guilt and sorrow strikes. Their monthly visit wouldn’t make this trip back home any better. I may have run, but never from them. We kept our connection over the years. I stop my mid-size Toyota RAV4 hybrid right next to the entry gate along the chain link fence and smile, remembering Papa’s grumbles over my foreign rig. The porch light welcomes me home. But it’s the three worn and loved rocking chairs on the porch that give me the strength to take the next step.
Chapter 2
Jules
“Let her sleep.” I tap Whit’s nose. “Go on out and run through the sprinklers until lunch is ready.”
“But Nana said we could have a spa day.” My little spitfire stomps her foot.
Jesus, can you take the wheel now?
I glance over to Papa’s Farm Bureau coffee mug. The same one he’d sip his coffee out of since I was Whit’s age. Praying to all gods they would give me the strength, I kneel down to Whit’s level.
“Baby girl, Nan is super sad and needs her rest. You can have a girls’ spa when she wakes up.”
Whit tilts her head in thought while ruffling the layers of her lime green tutu. Her hot pink polka-dot bikini top entirely clashes with it. “But painting toes makes everyone happy.”
“Want me to start counting and then go batshit-crazy-level mom?”
She pinches her lips together. “I’ll be out playing in the sprinklers, Momma.”
Whit rushes out in a blur of lime green. I slap my palms on the counter, hating the fact I resorted to my best friend Lydia’s tactics. Damn her! Guarantee if she were here, she’d be gloating about the fact she’s the number one aunt.
I rifle through the fridge, dumping casserole dishes from friends and neighbors. Some things never change, and that’s horrendous casseroles made by shitty cooks. I have no clue how many times growing up we tried to stomach food from Mrs. Wade. Nan finally learned to accept the gift with a smile and then scrape it out into the trashcan.
All the while, I keep an eye on the roast browning in a cast iron skillet. Nan couldn’t be happy about the fact I’m about to toss it in an Instant Pot for dinner. It’s grilled cheese, pickles, and store-bought potato salad for lunch. I’m armed and ready for Nana’s protest over Reese potato salad. I’m dealing with her and everything I can the best I know how, and that means store-bought ready-to-eat food.
Before long, I’m cleaning out cabinets, tossing outdated seasonings. I lose track of time and the fact Whit’s sandwiches have been done for some time. It’s a trick I’ve learned over the years of being a mother. If the princess is playing and happy, let her enjoy it. I continue sorting the kitchen, knowing damn well there will be hell to pay.
“C’use me, sir. We ain’t buying.” Whit’s sweet voice drifts in through the kitchen window.
I brush my hands off on the delicately embroidered tea towel and peer out the window. My heart ceases to beat. The man who crushed me waltzes up the cracked sidewalk. No. No. No. I thought I’d have more time.
Jessie’s deep, familiar chuckle echoes in the country breeze. He rakes his hand through his hair. He’s aged to perfection. Now a sculpted, tight beard frames his face; the same scar runs through his right eyebrow; his olive skin tone still mesmerizes me.
Jessie tucks his hands in his pockets and dips his chin for a brief moment before responding. “Here to see Jane. Told her I’d come by to change water and mow.”
Whit dances right up to Jessie. She covers her eyes, shading them from the sun, one hand on her hip.
“What’s your name, mister?”
“Jessie.” He nods.
She promptly sticks out her hand. “Hi, I’m Whit Jane Jones.”
Jessie freezes. Long moments float by before he clears his throat and extends his hand. His eyes flare wide as their hands connect.
“Nice to meet you,” she chirps.
Jessie doesn’t respond or drop her hand.
“You’re ’pose to say, ‘Nice to meet you, too, Whit Jane Jones.’ It’s the polite thing to do.” She dances in place, growing impatient.
Jessie’s voice cracks with emotion as he slowly speaks each word. “Nice to meet you, too, Whit Jane Jones.”
“Momma’s making lunch. Let’s go get it.” She wiggles her hand free and darts toward the porch, yelling like a banshee. “Mom, a Jessie is here to water your grass.”
With hesitant steps, I walk to the front door. I clench my fists at my sides, swallow hard, and push it open. Jessie hasn’t moved, and I don’t take a step towards him.
“Pee, pee, pee.” Whit rushes underneath my outstretched arm, holding the screen door open.
Once she disappears into the house, Jessie clears his throat and walks up to the bottom step.
“Jules.” He nods.
The man I loved for so many years and have hated for the last five years stares at me like a day hasn’t passed.
“Nana’s sleeping. You can come back when she’s awake or go about whatever you need to do.”
“I’m sorry, Jules.” He pauses for long beats before continuing on. “About your grandpa. He was a good guy.”
My shoulders relax a tick. If he was about to apologize for turning his back on me, it would have destroyed the last shred of control I have at this moment. I nod, acknowledging him.
“Going to eat, Momma,” Whit sings, skipping behind me.
I turn for a brief second. “Did you wash your hands?”
“Like a hundred times.” Whit rolls her eyes.
The sound of Jessie’s laughter forces my attention back on him. My glare erases the smile on his face. He tucks his chin to his chest, toeing some pebbles on the cracked sidewalk with his cowboy boots.
“She has my eyes.”
He speaks so gently and quietly, I’m not sure I was supposed to hear him. Hearing Jessie acknowledge his daughter for the first time guts me and leaves me speechless. I do the only thing I can, and that’s step back into the house and slam the screen door. The main one follows. There will never be enough barriers between
that man and me. It’s painful enough as it is, knowing I’m tied to him forever.
The nights I had to make up stories about Whit’s dad when she asked where he was kept the iron-clad barrier protecting my heart.
“Who was that?” Nana rounds the corner in a housecoat.
“Jessie!” Whit hollers from the dining room table.
“I’m sorry,” Nana whispers.
I shrug and go to her, hugging her tight. “Don’t be. I’m here for you. Probably should’ve come home a long time ago.”
“I might be selfish, Jules, but it feels so good to have you here. I just wish it wasn’t…” Her voice cracks, and she can’t continue.
I rock her back and forth until her tears dry up.
Chapter 3
Jules
I make sure I’m up first thing in the morning even though I only got in a few hours of sleep. Even seeing Jessie wasn’t enough torture—my childhood room sealed the deal. It’s the same as it was when I was growing up.
Garth Brooks posters plaster the walls, mixed in with a few New Kids on the Block. Trophies, pom-poms, and old pictures cover the rest of the space. Not to mention the Pepto-Bismol comforter I just had to have with all the lace and frills. Whit thought it was excellent.
Her enthusiasm gave me the courage to walk into the space. She curled up next to me in the bed and was out in moments. Her rhythmic breathing and light snoring were the only things that calmed me. I stroked her hair, reliving every memory I once cherished.
The moment I dozed off, it felt like my eyes had been closed for five minutes before the rooster began crowing. I crawled out of bed, tucking Whit down in the blankets.
Morning coffee was always Papa’s thing. That man lived on coffee. Drank it all day, every day. Nana always had a fresh pot brewing for him every morning. He’d read the paper, sipping on the hot joe while Nana would put together her to-do list for the day. Didn’t matter how old I was, it was always the same scene.
