Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One

by Peel, Jennifer

  As I began to put the groceries away I was joined by Easton, and he was alone.

  “Do you need help?” he offered.

  “No thanks, I’ve got it covered,” I said with my back turned to him as I loaded up the stainless steel refrigerator.

  “I cleared my whole day so I could help you and Ashley settle in.”

  I shut the refrigerator and turned back to him, surprised by his statement. “Well, like I said, I hired movers, and we’re pretty self-sufficient.” I didn’t want to be out-right rude and tell him to leave, but I didn’t want him there all day. We, unfortunately, weren’t the kind of exes that claim to be the best of friends and still love each other. Besides, I never believed anyone when they said that, anyway. I mean seriously, if you’re still the best of friends and love each other, you would still be married. I knew I would be. I used to be. But we were not friends, and there was a whole lot of love lost between us, and it was more love than I cared to remember because it ached me to my center. It left a hole in me that had never been filled. But again, I wasn’t thinking about it.

  He stood there looking at me, unsure of how to proceed. He looked uncomfortable as he ran his fingers through his curtained hair that parted down the middle. He’d had the same hairstyle for over twenty years. It was so odd to think I had known him that long, although much of it was spent apart.

  “I would really like to stay and help. And I wanted the girls to get to know each other,” he said firmly.

  That was the Easton I knew—confident and self-assured.

  I shook my head at him. “I don’t … I’m not sure …” Why couldn’t I just tell him to hit the road? I didn’t want or need his help. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I managed.

  “We need to get used to being around each other and in each other’s lives again,” he countered.

  “I suppose, but I think baby steps would be more appropriate to start with, don’t you?”

  “Taylor, please. I need your help here.”

  “What do you mean you need my help? When you called me, you said you wanted Ashley’s help for the summer.”

  He walked toward me and stood across the island from me. “I need your help getting reacquainted with our daughter, and in the process I was kind of hoping you could help with Emmy, too. She needs a woman like you in her life,” he said lowly.

  I leaned more toward him so I would not be overheard. It was hard because I wanted to raise my voice after his request, but I refrained. “You have a lot of nerve asking me to help you with your daughter that you fathered with the woman you left me for. The same woman, I might add, that kept you from my daughter.”

  He leaned in now, too. “If my memory serves me correctly, I’m not the one who left.”

  “Since your memory is so good, then you’ll remember why I did.”

  His demeanor softened. “Taylor, please, I don’t want to argue with you.”

  I didn’t want to either, but we seemed to gravitate toward it whenever we were around each other in private, or when we conversed on the phone. It was probably a good thing we rarely had contact over the last fourteen years. And of course he didn’t want to argue. How do you defend cheating on your wife? And the timing of it all? My mother had barely died and we had just gone through a major move. I needed him more than ever, but I always seemed to come in last, and then there was Kathryn. He denied the affair over and over again, but the signs were all there, so I left for the only support system I had remaining.

  “You’ve been such a great mother to Ashley. And Emmy, well … let’s just say she wasn’t as lucky as her sister.”

  I rubbed my temples, I couldn’t believe I had only lived here less than a day and I was already having awkward conversations with my ex-husband. I already felt like I had made the second biggest mistake in my life. The first biggest was agreeing the first time, when we were married, to move back here. It wasn’t the first time over the years he’s told me what a great mom he thought I was, but honestly I felt it was undeserved. Ashley was naturally a great kid. I don’t know that I did anything to contribute to that other than loving her to pieces. And I felt bad for Emmy, I did, but I wasn’t sure I should be the one to help him with her. I could only imagine what her mother’s thoughts were on the subject.

  I was about to tell Easton that they should probably leave when Ashley and Emmy walked in. A rush of pride swept over me as I looked at my girl holding her sister’s hand. She was the most wonderful creature on this earth.

  “Momma, I told Emmy they could stay for lunch.”

  Of course she had. I looked at Easton and he looked pleased with both the invitation and at his daughters being together. Emmy still looked timid. It pulled a little at my heart, but I thought maybe she would warm up once she got to know both of us, or at least Ashley. I was going to try and stay completely uninvolved.

  “Do you want me to order takeout?” Easton offered, but then he grinned at me. “Or do you still not do takeout?”

  It’s not that I never ate out or ordered food, but I was very particular. It was kind of my job to be. People paid me to make their lives better and healthier through nutrition plans. I have a degree and a plaque and everything that says so. I’m what they called a clinical nutritionist. And soon enough that degree plaque would be hanging up in my new office at Merryton General.

  “I’ll make something,” I grumbled.

  It was a great time to have company over for lunch—I had no utensils, or plates, or any of the other things I needed to entertain unpacked—but what the heck? It was only my ex-husband. It was a good thing I’d had the foresight to add paper products and plastic utensils to the grocery list I had sent with Ashley.

  I let the three of them get to know one another out back while I made lunch. Easton offered to help, but I declined again. I don’t know why he didn’t get the hint that I didn’t want or need his help. I hadn’t in fourteen years. I had learned not to depend on him. I had learned it kept me from a lot of disappointment. But again, I wasn’t thinking about it.

  I prepared whole-wheat pitas stuffed with turkey, lettuce, and tomato, along with an assortment of berries and chopped vegetables on the side. I arranged a plate for everyone and got out some bottles of water and called it good. It wasn’t fancy, but it was nutritionally balanced. I walked over to the back door and called out that lunch was ready. They were all sitting and talking on a blanket in the backyard. That would be where we would have to eat lunch too, either there or the hardwood floor in the house. The movers still hadn’t shown up.

  Easton was the only one to come in. He surveyed the plates before he picked one up.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  He looked over to me. “No, this looks great. I’m just worried Emmy won’t like it. She’s not really used to this kind of food.”

  “What’s ‘this’ kind of food?”

  “You know … the healthy kind,” he said sheepishly.

  “Aren’t you a doctor and wasn’t your wife a nurse?”

  “We didn’t do a lot of home-cooked meals, okay?”

  I had apparently hit a nerve. I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, maybe she’ll surprise you. But if she doesn’t like it, I’ll come up with something she does,” I offered. I don’t know why I offered. It wasn’t my fault he fed his kid crap. But there was something about Emmy that pulled on my heartstrings.

  “Thanks,” he said politely.

  He reached for two plates and I grabbed the other two and followed him outside. I couldn’t believe I was having a picnic with my ex-husband and his daughter. I didn’t sign up for this when I read the brochure about what to expect when living near your ex.

  Emmy looked warily at the food and at me.

  I smiled warmly at her. “Try it and if you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else. Okay?” I said it as kindly as I could, so she would know I was sincere and it was okay if she didn’t like it.

  She nodded her head yes, but she didn’t look hopeful at al
l.

  “One thing you need to know about my momma, Emmy, is she’s a total health nut, but she can make anything taste good.”

  “Thanks for that, Ash.”

  Easton laughed.

  Ashley laughed at me too, but she turned toward her sister and grabbed her pita and took out the tomato and handed it back to Emmy without the offending fruit. “Here, try this,” she said.

  Emmy cautiously took a very small bite. I felt bad that we were all watching her and waiting for her reaction. She didn’t gag or spit it out, so I took it as a good sign. I dug into my own food because I was seriously hungry and I needed something to do other than stare at my ex, who was staring at me.

  I pretty much stayed silent during the meal. I let Ashley and Easton dictate the conversation and catch up. I also observed Emmy. I came to the conclusion her issue with “healthy” food seemed to be partially due to texture. I supposed I could give Easton some suggestions on how to help with that and how to introduce new foods to her.

  All I knew was I was thrilled when the movers showed up. I needed the distraction. My ex-husband, unfortunately, thought he needed to stay and help. I had to say I was surprised he took a whole Thursday off to help; when we were married he wouldn’t have considered it. But now it was really annoying. And it was annoying when the movers assumed he was my husband. I quickly set them straight. And it was annoying when he insisted on helping me set up our beds and move the furniture to where I wanted it to be placed. And it was really annoying when he decided to go and get dinner for everyone and then stayed and ate with us, again.

  My saving grace was Emmy; she fell asleep on my couch around nine and Easton finally decided it was time to go home.

  “Can I talk to you privately?” he asked before they left.

  I only agreed because I wanted him to leave.

  We walked out to the front porch. I had forgotten that it gets cool at night in June. Back home it would still be steamy. I wrapped my arms around myself.

  “Do you want me to get you a jacket?” Easton asked kindly.

  “No,” I responded, probably too shortly. In my defense, it had been a long day and I was ready for him to leave.

  He responded by smiling. “I guess offering you my arm would probably be out of the question then.”

  I sighed and tiredly smiled. I couldn’t help it. “So, what did you need to speak to me about?”

  “Have you seen your father yet?” he asked quietly.

  I shook my head no. I had been trying to forget about the other reason I agreed to come home, the other ghost that had haunted me my whole life. Frank Roberts was the saddest excuse for a father that there ever was, but he was dying. Easton told me the night he called and asked if Ashley could come and spend the summer with him. I refused at first. I only have two summers left with her before she leaves for college and I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing one of them. That’s when he suggested I come, too. He told me the hospital was in need of a good clinical nutritionist and I should consider applying and moving back. I practically laughed at the suggestion. I hated this place and I swore I would never come back. But then … but then he told me Frank had been to see him, and Easton broke about a hundred privacy laws by telling me Frank was in stage four cirrhosis and gave him less than a year to live. Easton told me if I was ever going to forgive Frank and move on, this would be my last chance. And, of course, Ashley thought we should.

  Easton looked at me with concern in his brown eyes. He reached out and touched my cold arm. “I’ll go with you if you would like.”

  I again shook my head no. I wasn’t going to depend on Easton for anything.

  He dropped his hand and a look of disappointment washed over his face. “Okay, but I want to warn you. He looks terrible. And … I told him you were moving back.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “I’m sorry, Taylor, but I thought he deserved to know.”

  “Frank doesn’t deserve to know anything about me.”

  “People change, Taylor.”

  I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. “Yeah, I know, and it’s not always for the better.”

  About the Author

  Jennifer Peel is the mother of three amazing kiddos. Wife to her one and only for the past twenty-one years. Lover of late night talks, beach vacations, the mountains, pink bubble gum ice cream, tours of model homes, and southern living. She can frequently be found with her laptop on, fingers typing away, indulging in chocolate milk, and writing out the stories that are constantly swirling through her head.

  If you enjoyed this book, please rate and review it…

  … on Amazon.com

  … on Goodreads

  You can also connect with her on social media:

  … on Facebook

  … on Twitter (@jpeel_author)

  Other books by Jennifer Peel:

  Other Side of the Wall

  The Girl in Seat 24B

  Professional Boundaries

  House Divided

  Trouble in Loveland

  To learn more about Jennifer and her books, visit her website at: www.jenniferpeel.com