Jesse's List: A Beach Pointe Romance

by Mysti Parker

  Leigh applied her best welcoming smile. “So, what brings you here today, Officer Maddox?”

  “It’s Deputy, ma’am, but you can call me Jesse.”

  “And you can call me Leigh. I’m a little too young for ma’am.”

  He nodded. “All right.” Then he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m here because Sheriff told me I had to be.”

  “Are you on an investigation? I hope you know that my clients’ files are confidential except under the rare circumstances that I am obliged to come forward to the authorities.”

  “No, ma’am, I mean Leigh.” He scratched his head and returned his death grip to the armrest. “I can’t sleep. Sheriff told me to try a therapist.”

  “I see. How did you feel about that?”

  A slight smirk tweaked his lips to one side. “It’s a waste of time.”

  She’d heard that more than she cared to count. And coming from this guy soured the sentiment even more. Focusing on her notepad, she swallowed past the aggravation and reapplied her peaceful smile. “Perhaps you’ll change your mind when our sessions are complete.”

  “I doubt it.” He scanned the room before meeting her gaze again. “Are you from here?”

  “Yes.” The inevitable confusion narrowed his eyes. “Sort of. My family lived in Bardstown until I was ten.”

  “Your accent is…”

  “My mom’s British.” Her accent wasn’t nearly as pronounced as her mother’s, so most people didn’t seem to pick up on it. If anything, Jesse Maddox certainly was observant.

  “Oh. I’ve seen you in town, but I don’t remember you from school.”

  Of course he wouldn’t remember. No one did. “I was homeschooled.”

  “Oh.” His gaze locked on a picture of her parents on the side table.

  Here we go again. Would she have to explain that yes, there are black women in the United Kingdom? And that yes, it is legal for them to marry white American men? Surely he knew better than that, but she’d answered those ridiculous questions more than once. Why her parents loved this hick town, she’d never know. But her mom, Josephine, loved working at the animal clinic and her dad, Roscoe, was co-owner of a body shop that was pretty much a town fixture. And since she was still paying off student loans, she needed to live at home for a while longer, no matter how backwards the place could be.

  Leigh tapped her pen on her notebook. “How about we focus on your insomnia problem so you don’t waste your session hour any more than we already have?”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, I can’t sleep.”

  “Do you have any dreams? Nightmares?"

  "Sometimes." Jesse lowered his head and shifted in his seat as though the topic made him uncomfortable. He probably had nightmares about his father's death and mother's abandonment.

  She made note of it: Client exhibits anxiety at mention of nightmares. "Have you experienced any additional job stress lately?”

  “Not really. It’s usually pretty quiet around here. Got the occasional drunk driver and petty theft, possession of marijuana, that sort of thing. Haven’t seen a murder or bad wreck for a couple years.”

  “Do you have any nightmares about any of those things? Or find your thoughts drifting to them often?”

  “Every now and then, but I don’t focus on it.”

  Leigh clicked her pen a few times before making another note: Job stress level seems normal for now. His stoic expression was difficult to read. She had to go back farther and pretend she didn’t know his parents had died and what he’d been like as a kid. “What about your childhood? Do you remember any traumatic events or abuse?”

  He let go of the armrest and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Hanging his head, he sighed again.

  “Remember everything said in here is strictly confidential.”

  His gaze met hers again, but this time with a decidedly angry edge. “I don’t see what any of this has to do with me not sleeping. Just give me a prescription for sleeping pills so I can be on my way.”

  “I can’t prescribe medication.”

  “Then send me to someone who can.”

  “You’d rather take pills than talk about your problems?”

  He sat up straight and huffed a laugh. “Counseling doesn’t do shit but make people hate each other.”

  “Why do you say that?” Leigh had a knack for extracting things from her clients. She made a note: Client exhibits bitterness and suppressed anger, likely in part from family counseling that failed.

  She gripped her pen, ready to write whatever secrets he might reveal next.

  “It doesn’t matter.” He glanced up at her with sad eyes, but not quite as troubled as she’d expected. “Let’s just get this over with. What can I do to sleep again? Count sheep? Drink herbal tea?”

  This was getting frustrating. Besides the occasional stubborn spouse or child, clients were usually more than ready to spill their guts. She glanced at the red light on the video camera mounted near the ceiling. All her sessions were recorded for Dr. Gadbury to either watch live or review later. Either way, he’d probably lecture her on improving her persuasion techniques, posture, makeup, or whatever he imagined prevented her from being effective that day.

  How could she crack this shell? She couldn’t risk mentioning some of the terrible things she knew about him, and he clearly wasn't ready to talk about his family. But then again…maybe she was onto something.

  “My dad used to say that only a man with a clear conscience can sleep well at night. What’s weighing on your conscience, Jesse?”

  He took a deep breath and leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. “Look, I know I haven’t always been, um, respectable. You’ve probably heard some things about me. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t true.”

  She set her notebook in her lap and looked him in the eye. “I think we’re getting somewhere. You’re feeling guilt over past hurts you’ve inflicted upon others.”

  “You make it sound nicer than it was, but yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “Have you had to deal with any of those people you hurt recently?”

  A few seconds of heavy silence passed. “Yeah, Garrett Mann. I bullied him pretty bad in school. Pretty sure he still hates me. Can’t blame him. I dated his girlfriend a time or two before he came back to town. She doesn’t think much of me either.”

  “You liked this girl?”

  He lowered his eyes. “Yeah. But I can’t blame her for wanting Garrett. He’s a good guy. Squeaky clean.”

  “Well, Jesse, how many people would you say you treated badly as a kid?”

  “I don’t know. I lost count.”

  “Okay, but let’s try something. I want you to make a list.”

  “A list.”

  “Exactly.”

  “A list of what?”

  “Of people you hurt, but that’s not all. I want you to apologize to each of them and come up with ways you can help them. It could be as simple as buying them a cup of coffee or carrying groceries, but it must be something that both benefits them and helps you to forgive yourself.”

  Jesse crossed his arms. The heel on his shiny black shoe bounced impatiently. “What if they don’t accept my apology or my help?”

  “Then find some way to help them indirectly by donating to a charity they support or to their church. But let’s not cross that bridge until we come to it.”

  “You really think this’ll work?”

  “I think it could, but it depends on you and how much you’re willing to humble yourself and volunteer your time.”

  “I reckon I’m good for it,” he said with a shrug. “So when I make this list, then what?”

  “Start with ten people. After each one you cross off your list, you’ll come back here for another session for a total of ten weeks. I have a feeling by then, you’ll already be sleeping better. But don’t stop until it’s complete. Are you ready to do this?”

  “If it keeps me employed, then sure, why not?”
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  By the time their hour was finished, Leigh had helped Jesse come up with a list of names.

  1.Garrett Mann

  2.Mrs. Jenkins

  3.Marge Sandusky

  4.Patty Burton

  5.Pa

  6.Reverend Bobby Simpson

  7.Avery Price

  8.Sarah Donner

  9.Jack

  10.Dad

  He stood to leave and pointed toward the picture of her mom and dad. “Tell your mom I’ll be picking up those new kittens to foster tomorrow. Those last two kinda grew on me.”

  “Um…okay, I’ll do that. See you in a week?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Thanks.” He went for the door.

  “Jesse?”

  “Yeah?”

  Leigh nodded her head toward the side table. “Your hat.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” He picked it up, smiled, and lodged it on his head.

  It fit him well, made him look more the part of a strong, dependable lawman. She couldn’t help but notice how that quick smile had brightened his facial features.

  Deputy Maddox walked out of her office and past Becky’s desk. He tipped his hat at the receptionist, who fawned and blinked and blushed about it like a silly teenage girl. Leigh watched him through the window as he got into the police car and drove away. He didn’t seem to be the holy terror he’d been as a kid, but looks could be deceiving. He’d probably abandon this treatment plan and procure a good tranquilizer from a doctor instead. But then again, he knew her mom and fostered kittens. There just might be hope for him after all.

  Chapter Three

  No time like the present, as his grandpa always said. As soon as his shift ended, Jesse drove downtown and parked in front of Mann Cakes, the new savory bakery that had taken Beach Pointe by storm. In front of the adjacent store, a woman on a stepladder stretched on tiptoe to add a dot to the i in Sisters, as in Two Sisters Cupcakes, owned by Paige and Morgan Baxter. They’d decided to relocate their store and be neighbors to Mann Cakes after the craziness that went down a few weeks prior.

  The Baxter sisters had once been bitter rivals of the Mann brothers, until the sisters fell for the brothers. Or maybe it was the other way around. Not that it mattered. Jesse still thought he and Morgan Baxter could have been a great couple, but she thought otherwise. She had latched onto Garrett Mann now, and he couldn’t really blame her. What Jesse lacked in brains, Garrett had in spades. And he had to admit, begrudgingly, that Garrett had turned out to be a good fella after all.

  But damn, Morgan in short shorts and a hot pink tank top that kept showing off the peachy skin of her back and waist every time she reached up to apply another brush stroke… It made him wish he’d tried a little harder to win her over. Then again, she’d made her choice, and her choice was the reason he was there. Garrett Mann was the first name on his list.

  Jesse drew in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly from puckered lips like the therapist had suggested when he felt stress coming on. Leigh Meriwether certainly didn’t seem like a native Beach Pointe redneck. She reminded him of an exotic flower stuck in a patch of ragweed. Her dark, curly hair had coppery highlights that complemented her golden-brown skin. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup and didn’t need to, with those wide-set, intense eyes and plump, pink lips. She had a curvy figure with hips that swayed in a tick-tock rhythm when she walked from her desk to sit beside him. Her all-business simple black slacks, jacket, and pumps didn’t do her justice. One thing he knew for sure—she was way too good to be interested in the likes of him. He just hoped her advice panned out.

  Morgan came down the stepladder and noticed his police car. She looked startled, but then smiled and offered a tentative wave. One last deep breath, and he got out of the car.

  “Hey, Jesse, what’s up? Anything wrong?” Morgan asked, holding her paintbrush in one hand and a can of pink paint in another. Paint splatters dotted her cheeks and arms.

  “No, not at all. I just came straight from work. Should have changed first. Sorry.” He patted his uniform shirt and shrugged. “Is Garrett here?”

  “Yeah, he’s inside cutting some trim.” The loud whirr of a power saw came from inside the store. Then it went quiet.

  “Thanks.” Jesse took off his hat and headed through the propped-open glass door. Sawdust floated through the air, carrying the scent of pine, paint thinner, and lithium grease.

  Garrett stood at a table saw, holding the end of a long piece of ceiling trim. This had once been a hardware store, all pegboard and plain concrete floor. He leaned over, as though getting ready to cut another piece, but then stopped and looked over his shoulder. His frown and narrowed eyes were exactly what Jesse had expected.

  “Am I breaking a noise ordinance law?” Garrett’s barbed question scratched at Jesse’s already-sore sense of guilt.

  “No.” Jesse concentrated on not squishing his hat in his nervous grip. He swallowed hard, suppressing that stubborn streak that had got him into this mess in the first place. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

  Garrett dusted the sawdust off his hands as he turned to face him and then crossed his arms. A sarcastic smile spread across his face. “Did I hear you right? Did you just say you’re sorry? I think the saw must have damaged my ears.”

  “No, you heard right. I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you in high school.”

  It wasn’t as hard to say it as he’d feared, but Garrett just stared at him, head tilted to one side and mouth ajar as though Jesse was speaking in tongues. “Are you okay? I mean, did you get hit on the head today or something?”

  “No, I’m here on the advice of my…doctor.” He would have said therapist, but he didn’t want to come across as crazy.

  Garrett’s eyes widened. “Are you dying?”

  “What? No!” Shoulders slumped, Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know I hurt a lot of folks when I was younger, and…”

  “Your conscience is nagging you to make amends, right? Don’t bother. As you can see, I’m quite happy.”

  Morgan came inside and walked past Jesse as if to illustrate the point. She tiptoed and pecked Garrett on the cheek before going to a table with various cans of paint and solvents. “What’s up?”

  “The deputy was just leaving.”

  “I was trying to apologize,” Jesse said.

  “For what?” Morgan asked while swishing her paintbrush around in a jar of turpentine.

  “For all the stuff I did to him in high school.” He’d honestly lost count of all the shit he’d done to Garrett and wracked his brain to figure out where to start.

  “Let’s be more specific. Should I count?” Garrett beat him to it and ticked items off his fingers as he listed them. “For flushing my homework, stuffing me in a hamper with dirty jock straps—head first, mind you—calling me ‘Garrett the Maggot’ at the top of your voice, putting dog poop in my backpack, stealing my yearbook so you could draw penises and big hairy balls in permanent marker on all my pictures. Not to mention the countless wedgies, wet willies, goosings, trips, and a real pretty black eye from slamming my head into a locker. Oh, and that broke my glasses too.”

  Hard as it was to not interrupt, Jesse let Garrett get all those transgressions out in the open. At one time, it would have made him laugh to hear all that. Now, it just made him wince, especially seeing Morgan’s expression, hovering somewhere between mortified and pissed off.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’m sorry for all of it. And if I can help you out here with your remodeling or anything else, I’d be honored to do it.”

  Morgan’s face went from disgusted to a puppy-dog frown, followed with an, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Jesse.”

  If Garrett had been swayed, it didn’t show. “So we’re in agreement that you were a total bastard?”

  “Yes, I was a total bastard.”

  Garrett turned to Morgan. “Well, I guess that’s settled, but if you could…” He shrugged and gestured to the piles of wood lying against the wa
lls. “I’ve got plenty of trim here if you want to help me cut and hang it. The long pieces are kind of hard to handle alone, and Morgan needs to finish painting the sign before it gets dark.”

  “Sure. I can do that.” He looked around to find a suitable place to hang his hat and decided on a knob to a new glass door that adjoined this store with Mann Cakes. Garrett’s brother, Tanner, was over there, wiping down tables while Morgan’s sister, Paige, came up behind him and slapped his butt. He spun around, hugged her up, and kissed her. Jesse turned away quickly, but not before he felt a twang of envy. They all had someone. Unless he left this town, he probably never would. His misdeeds hung over him like his own personal rain cloud.

  “Grab that piece of trim there,” Garrett directed as he pulled two stepladders over to one wall. “Then you can help me hold it in place while I nail it down.”

  Jesse went to where Garrett pointed and picked up the freshly cut white trim, which was probably about ten feet in length, and carried it over to where Garrett stood on the middle rung of the stepladder. He handed Garrett one end, glanced at the other ladder, then simply reached his arm up and held the other end in place at the far corner. Being tall did come in handy at times. He’d have tried out for basketball if he hadn’t been a total screw-up. Garrett started attaching the trim to the wall with an air nailer. Tha-bump. Tha-bump. Tha-bump.

  “Wow, I never realized you were so tall!” Morgan said while she headed back outside with a new paint color and clean brush.

  Jesse smiled and honed in on the jiggle of her butt as she walked away. Garrett glared at him. Jesse focused on the trim with all the seriousness of a funeral. Garrett moved the stepladder and climbed back up to nail the middle of the trim down. The air nailer fired faster. Thabump, thabump, thabump, thabump. Jesse was pretty sure Garrett had put way too many nails in that two-foot section, but he wasn’t about to say anything.

  In fact, his eyes wandered again toward the front window, where Morgan was back up on her stepladder, stretching overhead. Her tank top had risen, showing off her flat stomach and belly button. Good lord in heaven, Garrett sure was one lucky son of a…