by Alison Stone
A hollow feeling expanded in his chest, pressing on his lungs.
Could he make Mary Clare happy?
Jesse scooped a piece of butter with the knife and flung it in the pan. He watched the butter bubble on the hot surface. He picked up the pan and swirled the butter around to coat the bottom. He poured the eggs in, then started the toast. His father sat at the table with the newspaper spread out in front of him. He wondered how much his father retained. It amazed him how daily routines stuck even when memories didn’t.
After a few minutes, Jesse slipped the plate of food in front of his father and grabbed a fork from the drawer.
A soft knock sounded at the door. His father stopped with a fork of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth. Jesse held out his hand. “Eat your breakfast, Dad. I’ll get it.”
Jesse tossed the pan into the stainless steel sink. Wiping his hands on the dish towel, he walked to the door. Through the smoky window, he saw Mary Clare’s profile. She seemed to be studying something off in the distance.
He tossed the dish towel over his shoulder and opened the door. He pushed the screen door open with his foot. “Hey there.” His gaze drifted past her to her luxury SUV sitting next to his twenty-year-old pickup truck.
“Hey.” She lifted a bare shoulder. She had on a blue tank top that matched her eyes.
“Come in.”
She stepped inside the small space. The heat from her body radiated, raising the temperature in the small space.
“I think it’s going to be a crank-the-AC kinda day.” Jesse stepped back to let her pass.
Jutting out her lower lip, she blew her bangs from her forehead. “At least you have air. My mom doesn’t believe in air. It’s stifling at her house.” She lifted her palm. “I’m horrible to even complain. Thanks to her, I have a place to stay.” She frowned. “But I hate being hot.” She glanced past him. “Morning, Mr. Thorpe. How are you?”
“Great. No complaints. Never felt better.” He put his fork down and seemed to study her. “I’ve never had a sick day in my life.”
Mary Clare cut Jesse a sideways glance. She turned her warm smile on his father. “Lucky man.” Jesse invited her to join them and she took the seat across from his father. “Did Jesse make you breakfast?”
His father narrowed his gaze, seemingly trying to process what she was saying. Mary Clare reached up and touched Jesse’s arm and his father followed the gesture. His face lit up. “Ah yes, Jesse made me breakfast. Would you like some?”
“Oh, no, I’ve already eaten. Can I borrow your son? I need to talk to him.”
“Sure.” His father picked up the paper and fussed with the creases before folding it just right. Jesse grabbed a pencil out of the junk drawer in the kitchen and handed it to his dad. Every night, the word puzzle had fewer letters in the empty boxes.
Jesse tipped his head toward the door. “We can talk out back.”
“Have a good day, Mr. Thorpe,” Mary Clare said before she allowed Jesse to take her by the hand. Man, he missed this woman.
Outside, the soft breeze blew the long grass on the field beyond their immediate yard. Jesse sat on the glider and pulled her down next to him. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”
She bowed her head slightly and her long red hair flowed over her shoulder and rested just above the rise of her breast. “I wanted to apologize. Chip gets all pompous and smug when he feels threatened.”
“Threatened by who? Me?” Jesse smirked. Chip’s an ass.
“Of course. He’s not blind. He sees the attraction and he wants to insert himself.”
Jesse reached out and traced a finger along the crease on her forehead. “I’m glad, because then he must think I’m worth being a jerk over.”
Mary Clare playfully punched the top of his thigh. “I’ll give you his cell phone number. You two can go out on a date.”
“Ha ha.” Jesse leaned over and playfully nudged her shoulder.
“Something else I thought I should tell you.”
“Yeah?” Jesse’s eyes widened.
“I got a job teaching at Blessed Trinity.”
“Really? That’s great. So you’re staying in Mills Crossing?” His mind raced. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
She shook her head. “No, seems my life doesn’t want to follow any sort of plan. But I thought you should know.”
“I appreciate that.” He wondered where that left him, but he didn’t want to force the issue. It was obvious she had a lot on her mind. And there was the issue of his job out in California. She might be in Mills Crossing, but he would be less and less, especially once his dad was settled into a long-term facility. Someone had to pay for it.
Mary Clare traced the chipped paint on the arm of the glider. “I didn’t want you to think I lied to you when I said I was going back to Buffalo and then ended up staying here.”
“I wish things could have been different. Our timing just sucks.”
“That’s true.” She bit her lower lip and looked at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s just as well. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet.” She sighed heavily. “I wanted to thank you for a great summer.”
Jesse cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb along her jaw line. “I had a great summer, too.” He frowned and stood up before he did something he might regret. “I better get back in to my dad.”
Mary Clare nodded her head briefly. “He’s lucky to have you.”
Jesse wanted to believe her, but feared he was failing his dad.
Chapter 18
The summer continued to fly by. Mary Clare hadn’t seen Jesse in weeks. He had been traveling for work. When he was in town, he spent the time with his father. Meanwhile, she helped her mother pack up the house. Henry asked about Jesse now and again, but mostly he was having the summer of his life with his cousins.
One afternoon, Mary Clare decided to hang out on the old hammock on the porch and relive the summers of her past. The memories flooded over her. It was hard to imagine that in a few weeks someone else would be living in this house. Another child would be in her room. Henry spent more time at his cousins’ than he had at her childhood home. Mary Clare was busy getting ready for the start of the school year and all that was left to do was find an affordable apartment. She had scheduled an appointment later this afternoon to check on an upstairs apartment in town.
The back screen door creaked open. She looked up from the math book in her hand. She was going to substitute teach algebra and geometry. She was relieved they didn’t throw her into calculus her first year. First year. Was she really thinking beyond this one year? Would she be staying in Mills Crossing indefinitely?
Her mother came outside to water the geraniums. She stepped back and looked at them thoughtfully. “I suppose I should give up on caring for the plants soon. Doesn’t make sense if they’re not going with me.” Her mother set the metal watering can—the one with a rusted spout—on the wide porch railing. Twisting her hands, she sat on the wicker seat across from Mary Clare. “Maybe I can rent a house. For all of us.”
Mary Clare tipped her head, studying her mother. “No, Mom. We’ve already been through this. Henry and I will be fine.”
Her mother ran her hand over her hair. “But what are you and Henry going to do in a little apartment?” She worried her lower lip.
“We’ll be able to walk to school. To shops. It’ll be great.”
Her mother scrunched up her face. “You won’t have a yard. You’ll be able to hear your neighbors through the wall.”
Mary Clare touched her mother’s arm. “That’s what I can afford. It’ll be fine.”
Her mother’s eyes sparked angry, the way they did whenever she mentioned her ex. “Has Chip paid you what he owes you?”
Mary Clare lifted her hand. “Enough, Mom. My lawyer is working things out. I can’t live my life angry with him.” She also sensed he was falling into line after her threat to air their dirty laundry. Questionable financial dealings would hurt his business—and his pride.
“I suppose you have a point.” Her mother stood and swatted Mary Clare’s knee. “You’re a better person than I am.” She smiled brightly. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Her mother gave her a strange smile. “Dad and I had a great marriage, but every so often when I was knee-deep in laundry and running dance carpool, I wondered ‘what if.’ Not always, mind you. But I wondered what if I had a career or had done something different. I know you didn’t plan for your life to turn out this way, but I’m a firm believer that sometimes things work out the way they were meant to be. And I guess if I was hard on you, I just wanted what was best for you.”
“I know, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her mother opened the screen door and slipped back inside.
Mary Clare stared at the dusty screen door long after her mom left. Oh, how far Mary Clare—and her mother—had come over one short summer.
Heavy footsteps on the back porch snapped Mary Clare out of her deep thoughts. Henry flopped down on the hammock next to her, sending the math book flying. “Can I go over to Zach’s?”
“Aunt Amanda needs a break.” Mary Clare had been saying that all summer to no avail. She did try to reciprocate, but with all the packing and sorting going on at her mother’s house, it made more sense that the cousins play down the street.
As if anticipating that, Henry shoved the phone at her. “Talk to her. She likes when I come over.”
Mary Clare sighed and grabbed the phone. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” her sister-in-law said. “Just send him down with two eggs. I don’t feel like running to the store.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Mary Clare ended the call, and sent Zach on his way with the eggs and a warning to be careful and polite and to not overstay his welcome.
Then she went upstairs to start pulling things out of her childhood closet for Goodwill or packing. Her cell phone chimed in her purse on the dresser. She ran to it, eager for an excuse to stop what she was doing. The screen displayed Jesse’s number. She stared at it for a moment before lifting the phone to her ear.
“Hey.” Jesse’s voice sounded low, gruff.
Her heart immediately leapt to her throat. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was high-pitched in her ears.
“It’s my dad.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Pinpricks of panic raced across her skin. She knew what he was going to say before he even said it.
“My dad passed away sometime during the night.”
Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t find her voice. A tear tracked down her cheek. “I’m sorry.” She wanted to ask a million questions. “What can I do for you?”
“Come over. I don’t want to be alone.”
Mary Clare nodded. “I’ll be right there.” She ended the call. Her mouth grew dry and she wondered if her trembling legs would support her.
A short time later, Mary Clare found herself on Jesse’s front stoop. She heard the TV through the screen door. She opened it and stepped into the cramped space. “Jesse.”
“In here.” He cleared his throat.
The trailer was warm and stuffy. She pulled the curtain back covering the open window near the TV to allow the air to circulate. She stopped in front of him. On the table next to Jesse, three beer bottles were lined up in a neat row. “Let me make you some coffee.” She’d be better if she was doing something. She didn’t know how to face this grief head-on. It was too palpable.
Lazily, he lifted his hand. “No. Beer’s fine.”
Staring at him under the muted light in the trailer, she sat in the recliner across from him.
He pointed at her. “That’s my father’s chair.”
She scooted forward. “I’m sorry.”
He lowered his hooded eyes. “You’re fine.” He had a distant look in his eyes.
Mary Clare traced the worn edges of his father’s chair.
Jesse ran a hand under his nose. “His doctor said it was probably a heart attack in his sleep.” Jesse shrugged.
She thought she detected a trace of a quiver in his bottom lip. She wanted to go to him, comfort him, but imagined the impenetrable, huge wall around his heart. She didn’t know how to break through it.
“Can you imagine? We’re preparing for him to die a slow death, losing more memories each day. And then this.” He took a long swig of his beer. “Better way to go, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.” A soft breeze blew in through the open window, moving the stagnant air. “Where’s Lynne?”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “She’s with her family. Her husband. Her kids. She wanted me to come over, but I wasn’t into a big scene.”
“Don’t you have to make arrangements?”
“Done. My father had been very specific in what he wanted. He let us know years ago.”
“I’m glad you called me.”
A dark shadow haunted his eyes. “Don’t you feel lucky?” His words dripped with sarcasm.
His words pierced her heart. He was drunk. She finally forced herself to stand and cross over to him. She sat on the couch next to him, their thighs brushing.
Surprising her, he reached over and took her hand in both of his. “You had the right idea to get out of town after college. There’s nothing here anymore. This place sucks.” A long silence stretched between them while a rerun of some show played on the television. “My dad didn’t want a funeral service. I promised him before he got really bad. He knew one day he wouldn’t be able to make his own decisions, so he was very clear about his wishes. He wanted his ashes spread over the pond.”
“That sounds nice,” she said, for lack of anything better to say.
“Nice? Fishing is nice.” Jesse shook his head. “Being fed to the fish…”
“Come on. You’ve had too much to drink.” She reached across him to grab his beer and he caught her wrist.
“I’m not done with that.”
“Please, let me make you coffee.”
“Not yet.” He stared at her intensely and reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. His fingers sent a trail of awareness across her skin. “Thanks for coming over. I missed you.” His words were slightly slurred. “I wanted to be honest with you because you seemed to be all honest with me when you told me you were staying in Mills Crossing. I’m not sure why you told me, because you knew I was leaving. That I had a job and place to live in California.”
“That’s not why.”
“Then why?” He sounded angry.
“Because I’m sick of secrets, that’s all.”
He rubbed his whiskered jaw roughly, as if trying to clear his head. “Well, I’m going to be honest with you. I’m going to get rid of this horrible trailer and I’m going out west full time. Grow the business. Forget about the sad life my dad lived here in this miserable trailer.”
“Your dad was a good man. He did what he had to do for his kids.” She patted his thigh and he placed his hand on hers, trapping it. “You’re grieving. You’ll see clearly when some time has passed.” She pressed her cheek to his shoulder. “And when you’re not drunk.”
“My dad was a good guy.”
“I really liked him.”
Jesse smiled for the first time since she walked through the door. He cupped her cheek as she rested her head on his shoulder. “He was fond of you, too. He always seemed to know who you were.”
Jesse’s girl. Mary Clare’s gaze drifted around the small space. “Maybe you shouldn’t be quick to sell this place.”
Jesse smirked. “My parents didn’t even want this place. It was supposed to be a temporary home until they built their dream one.” He pulled back a bit to see her face. His eyelids drooped. “Not everyone gets to have a dream come true.”
A hollowness expanded in her chest, crushing her lungs. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Pressing his lips together, he shook his head. “And I regret tr
aveling these last few weeks. I should have been here with my dad.”
“You did what you thought best.” She narrowed her gaze at him. “You were planning for your father’s future.”
Jesse drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Or I was making an excuse to get out of here.”
“You loved your father. He knew that.”
“I should have been here.”
“Don’t beat yourself up.”
He laughed bitterly. “It’s what I do best.”
“Why don’t you get some rest?” He could sleep off the effects of the alcohol.
Jesse held out his hand and she took it. He stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Stay with me.” He breathed into her neck.
She swallowed hard. He smelled like aftershave, soap and a hint of barley. “You’re drunk.”
His glassy eyes widened. “Am not.”
“You are, too.” She smiled. “Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
He waggled his eyebrows. She guided him to his room. He lay down on his full-sized bed that took most of the space in his small room. She plumped the pillow under his head. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down. He kissed her full on the mouth. She froze for a second and then acquiesced. He tasted good. She always liked the taste of beer on a man’s tongue.
He ran his hand along the hem of her shirt and skimmed the edge of her shorts. His fingers left a trail of warmth and tingles. It took a lot of will, but she reached behind her and pulled his hand away and managed to stand.
Jesse’s firm grasp held her wrist. He smiled at her. “Oh, come on.”
She tried to glare at him, but found herself smiling. “Boy, you know how to seduce a girl.”
“Never heard any complaints before.” He sniffed and watched her for a moment. She couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. “Just lie next to me, then. I don’t want to be alone.”
Mary Clare bit her lower lip. Without saying another word, she lay next to him on top of the covers, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and seemed to relax.
A few hours later, she slipped out of Jesse’s bed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He barely stirred. She left him a note on the kitchen counter to call if he ever needed anything. She knew he wouldn’t.
