“Honey, look around you. The café is doing better than ever because of you, you’ve been to the brink and back but you’re still trying, and the teenagers at church worship the ground you walk on.”
“That’s the cinnamon rolls.”
“And who gets up early every Sunday morning to make those?”
I smiled in response.
“You are an amazing woman. You have so much to give and you do so even when you feel like you have nothing to offer. I know this new twist in the plot is hard for you, but don’t let the act of how Madeline got here get in the way of loving her. From the sound of it, she needs a woman like you in her life. And so does Blake.”
“So how often have you been talking to my husband?”
She squeezed me tighter. “As much as he needs it.”
I arched my eyebrow at her, but she didn’t elaborate. That was okay. I was glad Blake felt like he could talk to my mom. She probably forced him into it at first, but he wouldn’t have talked at all unless he really wanted to. Blake was not one to be pushed into anything.
I thought about what my mom had said as I set the table. Could I love Madeline? Would she like me? Would I like her? What was she like? I prayed she wasn’t like her mom—I’d have to hope she got more of Blake’s genes.
I also wondered how Blake’s meeting with her was going. He sounded nervous when he called me this morning from the Salt Lake City airport. I probably should have been more supportive on the phone. I wasn’t trying to be unsupportive—I was only trying to mask the hurt and confusion. How did this become my life? I thought.
My parents and I sat down together at the table on the patio. I still looked to my right at the empty chair next to me. Blake hadn’t come to Sunday dinner in forever. I knew he wasn’t coming tonight, but for the first time in a long time, I missed him. I took it as a good sign.
My dad said grace and served my mom and then me. I always thought it was such a sweet gesture. It was no wonder I grew up with fairytale ideals about what love and marriage were supposed to be like. According to my mom, my dad had been a real cad at the beginning of their relationship, but she set him straight. I couldn’t believe it because my whole life he had worshipped the ground my mother walked on.
We conversed about normal things like the pastor’s sermon and the weather. Then, out of the blue, my dad says, “You better make sure that daughter of his has all of her shots.”
I coughed on the water I had just swallowed. “Dad, she’s not a puppy. What made you say that?”
“I was reading an article today in The New England Journal of Medicine about how many people today are choosing not to vaccinate their children. It can be dangerous, you know.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Blake will make sure she’s taken care of.”
“What does he know about taking care of a teen girl?”
“I don’t know, but I suppose he’ll learn.”
“Don’t you mean both of you?” my mother chided.
I nodded hesitantly.
“I don’t like this situation one bit,” my dad growled.
“Join the club, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
“Well I, for one, think it’s exciting. We get to be grandparents.” My mother beamed.
Both my dad and I looked at her like she was a little off.
She gave us such a look back that neither of us argued with her.
“Like it or not, Madeline is your stepdaughter, which makes me a grandma.”
I knew she had been dying to be called that. Once we were past the first trimester of Carter’s pregnancy, she began calling herself The Grandmother. It reminded me we all had loss to bear.
I smiled at my mother. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Hmm …” was all my dad could add.
I knew he wasn’t happy, but my mom was, so that’s all that mattered in his book.
After dinner my mom and I worked on my homemade s’more recipe. The texture was still a tad off for me. I needed the cookie to be a little crisper, like an actual graham cracker. My mom suggested adding more white sugar in place of some of the brown sugar. She was the master, and her advice produced the perfect cookie. I didn’t need to go to school to learn how to bake; my mother was the best teacher around. School helped me with technique and running a business, but my mom would always be my number one professor.
“I love your ideas for the new fall lineup,” my mom said proudly as we cleaned up.
“Thanks. That reminds me. Do you mind if I use your cheesecake recipe, but tweak it a little bit?”
“Tweak away,” she said as she closed the dishwasher and pressed start.
I hugged her tight. “Thanks, Mom. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She squeezed my cheeks. “You’re so cute.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going home now.”
“Remember to stay there,” she called out to me as I went looking for my dad. “Oh, and I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom,” I called back.
My dad was in his office, studying.
I looked around at all of his degrees, awards, and licenses that hung on the wall. He had been the chief of staff at Merryton General Hospital for years before he retired. It was hard for him to give all of that up, but my mom was ready to be done with the crazy doctor hours. There were also several family pictures displayed, mostly from when I was growing up - pictures from proms, graduations, and beach vacations. I looked at the girl in those photos and saw someone who knew she could take on the world. What I wouldn’t give to feel that way again.
My dad looked up from his computer and took off his glasses. “How’s my Belle doing?”
I walked over to him and kissed the top of his head. “I’m doing okay. I came to say goodbye.”
He pulled a nearby chair over. “Sit with me for a moment.”
I would never refuse him.
My dad had this way of looking at me that made me feel protected and loved. He touched my cheek softly. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.
“Ready for what?”
“You realize how serious stage four is of any cancer?”
I nodded my head.
“And melanoma is a tricky beast. It is not as well-known as some of the other cancers out there, which means treatments don’t always produce desired results.”
“So … what does this have to do with me?”
“Honey, you need to ask yourself whether or not you’re ready to raise this girl.”
“Dad, you know as well as I do that people with cancer, even in advanced stages, can live for years. And Madeline will be eighteen in five years or so.”
“True, but she may still become your full-time responsibility.”
I sighed and looked up toward the ceiling. “I know. I’m trying to come to terms with it.”
“If you want to leave Blake, you know I would support you,” he said quietly enough to not be overheard by my mom, who would have been very unhappy to hear him say it.
I looked at him sternly. “Dad, I need you to support me in staying.”
“Why? You’ve been so unhappy.”
“Not because of him necessarily, and it takes two to tango. I get that Blake maybe isn’t the easiest person to get to know or get along with, but I’ve never understood your aversion to him.”
He thought for a moment. “I wanted so much more for you.”
“What more could I need?” Besides a baby, but Blake and I had tried our hardest there. “I mean really, Dad. I live in a beautiful home. I run a successful business.”
“But do you have love?”
“Blake loves me. He just shows it differently than most people,” I said defensively.
“And how do you feel about him?”
“Like I want to kill him half the time.” I smiled.
He frowned.
“Dad, we’re working on it.”
He reached up and touched my cheek. “Just make sure he treats you the way y
ou deserve.”
“I will. And will you please try with Blake? I can only imagine the firestorm the news of Madeline is going to cause in this town. We are both going to need your support.”
His brows scrunched together.
“Dad.”
“Anything for you, my Belle.”
I stood up and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Dad. Thanks for always watching out for me.”
The house felt lonely when I walked in. Maybe we should get a dog, I thought, like a big fluffy one that would jump up on you when you walked in, letting you know how much he loved and missed you. It was weird, but Blake and I had never discussed our preferences about having a pet. If I had to guess I would say he wasn’t a pet guy. I didn’t have one growing up, but I thought it might be nice.
I turned on all the main lights in the house for company and then settled in for some Mark Harmon. He reminded me of Blake—he hardly ever spoke in his role as Jethro Gibbs. I suddenly realized I had this strange attraction to strong, silent men. I wondered if that was because my first boyfriend, Landon, was such a pest. He hung all over me and called all the time. At first I thought it was cute, but after a while it grated on me. I broke up with him the night of our senior prom. The timing wasn’t nice, but neither was him always trying to cross the line. If only my dad knew, then he probably wouldn’t be so keen on Landon Riley. I never said anything because our parents were friends, and besides, I took care of him quite nicely on my own. He’s fathered a child, so at least I know I didn’t do any permanent damage.
Oddly enough, that still wasn’t a complete turnoff for him. Every summer we came home from college he still tried to worm his way back into my life, to no avail. He was married now to Veronica, or as Cheyenne likes to call her...well, never mind, I didn’t want to think about what Cheyenne calls her. Let’s just say that she and Landon suited each other well. They are both about as fake as self-tanning spray lotion. Now that he’s been elected mayor they love to walk around like they’re the president and first lady. She no longer refers to Landon as her husband, now it’s “mayor.” Then she parades her sweet little boy, Landon Jr., around like he’s some show pony. Poor kid was always dressed like he was going to church, and if he stepped even a little toe out of line, she flipped. He was only five years old, but she wanted him to behave as if he were thirty-five.
But what did I know? Childless woman that I was.
As I ogled Mark Harmon on NCIS, I wondered how the father-daughter reunion was going in Utah. I still couldn’t believe Blake was a dad. So many emotions surrounded that thought, including everything from anger to inadequacy. It felt like all I had done for the last decade was try to make us parents, and I had nothing to show for it except a broken marriage. And now all of sudden one of us has what the other could never obtain.
I tried my best not to make it about me. My mother was right. It wasn’t all about me. Maybe that was the problem—it had nothing to do with me. Blake was a dad and it had nothing to do with me.
Blake’s timing for calling wasn’t good, but I answered anyway.
“Hello.”
“Jessica.”
“That’s me.”
“I just got back to the hotel, so I thought I would call.”
I waited for him to say something else. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I was on the verge of crying, but I didn’t want him to know that. I knew this wasn’t easy for him and I even knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me, but the pain was still there.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Why did he have to start being in tune with me now? “Tell me how your day went.”
“Tell me what’s bothering you first.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know this his hard for you. I’m sorry.”
“So, how’s Madeline?”
He paused for a moment. I felt bad I was making him be cautious about his own daughter. “She’s lively.”
“Lively?”
“She talks a lot.”
“That’s normal for girls her age.”
“Then she’s very normal.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“You got along then?”
“Yeah,” he said relieved.
“I’m glad. So, what did you guys do?”
“Not much. I wasn’t sure how comfortable she would be with me, so we mostly stayed at their apartment and talked.”
“So, Sabrina was there?”
“Yes, of course. She asked about you.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“I told her you ran your own café.”
“How impersonal of you.”
“What was I supposed to tell her?”
“I don’t know, you could have lied and told her I was the best wife ever and beautiful and what a lucky guy you are to have married me.”
“That wouldn’t be a lie, but Jessica, what’s wrong?”
“Maybe it’s the fact that you spent all day with a woman you slept with and then had a child with! Or maybe it’s that I’m jealous because I can never give that to you.”
“Jess, there is no reason for you to be jealous. I’m not attracted to Sabrina in the least. And I didn’t marry you because of the children you could give me. I’ve told you from the beginning I would love you whether we had children or not. But sometimes I wonder if you feel the same about me. Can you love me without children?”
The ever-present tears fell from my eyes. I took several deep breaths. That question stopped me dead in my tracks. My first thought was of course. When I married him, it was for him and only him, but as the years had gone by that focus shifted. I’d lost sight of our marriage. “Blake, how did it all get so messed up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would you have come after me if you knew about Madeline from the beginning?”
“Without a doubt. The question is would you have taken me back?”
“That is a good question.” It was one I didn’t have an answer to.
“I’m leaving here first thing tomorrow morning. When I get back into town, I’ll come pick you up and take you out to lunch.”
“You realize I own a café, right?”
“Is that what that is?”
I was surprised he responded with sarcasm. That wasn’t his style, but I liked it. “That’s what the sign says.”
“I want to speak to you without getting the whole town involved.”
“That will be easier said than done.”
“I know.”
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll probably be there around one.”
“Sounds good.”
“Jess …”
“Yeah.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
Chapter Eight
I dressed with a purpose that morning. I chose some fabulous fitted jeans that showcased my figure and paired them with a violet blouse that I belted at the waist. I even ventured outside the norm and threw on some leather wedges. I added some volume to my hair, applied my make-up, and called it good. As I looked myself over in my long, free-standing mirror, I almost recognized myself. My skin was even glowing and the blue was coming out in my hazel eyes. It’s amazing the benefits you gain from eating real food and from caring about your appearance.
Blake hadn’t complained about my appearance, but he hadn’t complimented it, either. It’s not that he would; he wasn’t one to really dish out compliments. He never even said anything one way or the other when I cut six inches off my hair several weeks ago.
I went into work early and tried hard to be myself. I missed talking to my morning crowd at the café. And by the response I received, I was missed, especially from one group in particular.
There was the cutest bunch of “mature” ladies that set up shop in my café each morning. They each brought some project or another to work on—from knitting to scrapbooking. They also brought a computer and watched reruns of the show Reb
a, all while eating scones and sipping tea and coffee. I told Cheyenne and Abby that would be us someday. Abby was on board, Cheyenne, not so much. Doris, Ingrid, Fran, and Gerri stopped me as I walked by.
“You’re looking quite attractive this morning. Do you have a hot date?” Fran teased me.
“This early in the morning?”
“Morning dates are the best—it meant the night before never ended.” Doris winked at me.
Cheyenne was going to be the Doris in our group.
I shook my head at my seventy-year-old friend. “Blake and I do have a lunch date later.”
“Lunch,” Ingrid said. “Is that what you kids are calling it now?”
“You ladies are a lot of trouble. You know that, right?” I grinned at them all.
They all laughed and admitted wholeheartedly that they were.
“Well, have a good day. Try not to get into too much trouble.”
“You have fun at ‘lunch,’” Doris said with an impish grin.
I didn’t respond. I knew what she was talking about wasn’t on the menu and it hadn’t been for some time. I could hear the rumors now if people only knew we were sleeping in separate bedrooms. I tried not to let that thought get to me. It was a good thing we were stepping back and reevaluating, right?
I greeted several more customers before I made my way back to the counter. There sat Easton. Normally he took his food to go in the mornings, so I was intrigued as to why he was there.
“Easton,” I said as I stood across from him behind the counter.
He looked up from the Merryton Daily Press he was reading. He didn’t look well at all. His eyes were bloodshot and he was going way beyond the five o’clock shadow. He was an attractive man, but the scraggly beard did not suit him.
“Are you okay?” I asked when he didn’t say anything. He almost seemed paralyzed.
“Have you ever had a moment in your life where you knew exactly what you should do, but you didn’t do it, even knowing the outcome wouldn’t end well if you didn’t act?”
I thought for a moment as I watched him. I felt like his eyes were begging me for relief, but I didn’t know what to say or do. He looked about two seconds away from losing it. “Easton,” I said quietly, “what’s happened?”
Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One Page 6
