Smooth Irish (Book 2 of the Weldon Series)

by Jennifer Saints

  Jackson started to speak and his mother held up her hand. “I don’t want to know because technically it is none of my business. The second thing I have to say is that we taught you to be a responsible adult and that means not having sex until you’re ready to take on the responsibilities and consequences that go along with the fun. From the way you live here, and the shape you were in this morning, you are no more ready for children than you were at fifteen.” Tears gathered in her blue eyes and Jackson saw her unwavering strength falter. “Where have we failed you, Jack?”

  God. He thought he couldn’t feel any more and all he’d been able to do was feel. Everything cut so deep. “You haven’t. I’m the one who screwed up. The choices I made killed Amy.” He told his parents everything. It hurt them that he hadn’t told them about the guilt that he felt. Their response seemed to mirror Nan’s.

  “Was Amy a bad driver? Anything not maintained on the car she drove?” his father demanded, eyes narrowed.

  “No, and no. The other driver had a heart attack and crossed the centerline. Amy tried, but couldn’t avoid his car."

  Dishtowel in hand, his mom spoke up. “How was Amy not feeling well that night? Was she ill? Did she have a fever?”

  “No. Just heartburn from a meatball sub she’d eaten while out buying a maternity dress for the party.” Jackson’s heart warmed a minute. Amy had been so ticked off that what she craved to eat hadn’t set well.

  His mom smiled. “Did she have on her new dress when you got home, or did you have to force her to put it on?”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “She had it on, of course.

  “Doesn’t sound like you forced her to go. Sounds like she wanted to go.”

  “She did, but—“

  “Did she work all night with you?” his father asked.

  “That’s a stupid question. She was at home asleep.”

  “So son, seems to me that if you’d been irresponsible and had been driving after being up for twenty-four hours and had an accident that killed Amy, you’d have every right to blame yourself.”

  “We just shouldn’t have gone.”

  “Good solution,” his mom said. “All of us should just stop living and close ourselves up in a closet. Can’t go buy food, because we might have an accident on the way to the store. Can’t get on a plane for a vacation or a business trip, it might crash. Can’t go to the beach, we might get skin cancer.”

  “Now you’re really being ridiculous.”

  “No, you are.”

  “Don’t you understand what happened? They died and I couldn’t save them?”

  “Is there any way that anybody could have saved them?”

  “Maybe. If we’d been closer to the hospital, if I’d had the right equipment.” But even as he said the words, he realized that it had been a big maybe. Amy had died even before the paramedics had made it to the scene.

  His mother squeezed his hand. “Caring is different than feeling guilty. You can care and not destroy your own life. I grieve for Amy; she was my first daughter-in-law. I call her mother twice a month and we talk; we’ve moved past the pain to the memories. You need to, too.”

  “Your mother and I gave the best years of our lives making sure you had a chance at a good life. We aren’t going to lose you. Not to a bottle of whiskey and not to guilt over something you couldn’t control.” His father stood. “Think about it, son. Pack up some of your clothes. We’ll be expecting you for supper.”

  His mother leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I watered your African violet. If you aren’t careful it will die.”

  “Thanks,” Jackson said. They left. Jackson looked at the plant Nan had given him, now wilted and brown tinged, nowhere near resembling the lush little plant she’d given him.

  Just before the door shut, his father stuck his head back in. “Were you in or on the pickup truck?”

  It took a few seconds for Jackson to figure out what his father was talking about. “On,” he said without thinking.

  “It’s in your blood. That’s where your mother and I conceived you.”

  “John!” Jackson heard his mother wail.

  His father grinned then nodded at the pile of condom wrappers on the table. “Looks like you found someone worth living for.”

  Jackson shook his head in wonder. He couldn’t quite picture his mother and father on a pickup truck. Not like he and Nan had been. Parents didn’t do those things.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It took Nan until Thursday to be able to draw a deep breath. No, he hadn’t promised more than just sex, but she had felt so much more. More than she had ever felt with any one before. And part of her carried the heavy burden of his anguish.

  He hadn’t left her with any other choice but to leave him in the dark void he’d chosen. After tossing and turning all Tuesday night and not seeing Jackson at the construction site when she arrived at work on Wednesday, she’d decided to call Jesse and ask him to go see Jackson.

  Her nights were restless, but not because of any fantasies. She still yearned for him, ached for his touch, but the ache was a bitter draught laced with sadness. She had nightmares now. During the night she saw Jackson trying to save people in the emergency room and couldn’t help them. She worked right beside him and every failure left bloodstains on her hands.

  After two nights she was ready to scream. Every woman who came into her care at work, she double-checked her assessment, their vital signs, and those of the unborn baby. She was a nervous wreck that something might go wrong, could go wrong at any minute.

  By Thursday noon she was exhausted and still had three more hours left to her shift. She turned into the nurse’s station to log in her notes on her patient’s charts. Jackson wasn’t at work, so no one gawked out the window. Still, Nan ran her gaze over the construction site. They’d made a lot of progress in two weeks. It wouldn’t be long until all of the outside work would be completed. She told herself that this was a good thing.

  “Nan.”

  Nan looked up to see Brad enter the nursing station. Dr. Dennison was at his side.

  “Nancy, you remember Steve Dennison, right?”

  Nan stood to shake his hand. “Of course.”

  “Nice to see you again, Nancy.” He cupped her hand and once again she found his smile warm and friendly.

  Brad touched her arm and she turned to him. ”I’m glad I caught you. I only have a minute. The hospital board has asked me to attend their meeting tonight so I’m afraid I won’t get to see you until tomorrow. What time are we supposed to be there, Steve?”

  “Around seven. Don’t worry about dinner, a buffet is being catered.”

  “I still don’t know about the whole weekend. I’m trying to work out my on-call situation, but Nancy and I will be there for the party Friday. Is it okay if I pick you up about six-thirty?”

  “Uh, well, I was going to talk to you about that tonight,” Nan managed to say. Telling Brad she wasn’t going to go with him in front of his colleague seemed pretty tacky; she couldn’t do it.

  “Oh, I’d forgotten. You prefer to drive when I’m on call. Why don’t you meet me at the Sandpiper at six-thirty? It’s a little pub on the dock. We can have a few minutes to talk beforehand.”

  “Fine.” At least driving herself made it seem less like a real date and if she met Brad before the party, she’d be able to tell him then. Brad left in a whirlwind hurry, and Nan turned back to the charts, but couldn’t focus on the words. She decided to take her lunch break first.

  Since she had no appetite, she went to see Alexi.

  Nan heard Jake’s wail all the way from the end of the hallway. She knocked and stuck her head in Alexi’s door. “It’s me.”

  “Be warned. You enter at your own risk.” Alexi was trying to get her gown opened enough to feed Jake who squirmed and kicked his little legs like a champion swimmer. He’d broken free of his blanket.

  “What happened here?” Alexi’s hospital room was a wreck.

  “Jesse and Jake that’s
what.”

  “Uh. Oh. This doesn’t sound good.”

  Just as Alexi opened her gown and snuggled Jake up to her breast, he gave one final kick. He hit a plastic vase made to look like a diaper pail that was sitting on Alexi’s lap table. The blue carnations and white roses went flying all over the floor. The water poured into Alexi’s bed.

  Alexi’s eyes boggled. “This morning it was my ice water jug.” She pushed the nurse call button. Jake’s wail was replaced by the gentle suckling sound of a baby nursing and Alexi tucked him closer to her body. While waiting for the nurse to respond, she pointed to two chairs stacked full of newspapers and magazines jumbled together with miniature sports balls and baby toys. “That’s Jesse’s.” Then she pointed to a big pile of baby paraphernalia all over her bed. “That’s Jake’s. My stuff is in the suitcase in the closet.”

  Nan shook her head smiling. “I have to hand it to you, I’m not sure I would be as calm as you are right now.”

  Alexi brushed the cap of little black curls on Jake’s head with her fingers. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  The nurse stuck her head in the door.

  “Jake scored another one. He nailed the vase of flowers you just delivered. I need my bed changed.”

  “I should have known better than to set those there. That boy is destined to some sort of kicking greatness.”

  “Don’t tell Jesse, he’ll have him playing soccer in the crib before the week is out.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute. It would be good for you to take your walk in the hall then, too.”

  Alexi groaned. “I thought once you had the baby the worst part was over with.”

  “Honey, it’s just started,” the nurse said grinning as she left.

  “They cut you open then they don’t let you sit a minute,” Alexi grumbled.

  “If you sat then you would be in worse shape and it would be harder to move,” Nan advised.

  Alexi narrowed her eyes. “I already have a nurse. I need my best friend right now.”

  Nan didn’t miss a beat. “Well, isn’t that just awful. What do they think they are doing to you, making you get up and walk? You didn’t sign up for ROTC. I need to go whip them with my stethoscope.”

  Alexi grinned. “Better. Much better.” She wrapped a blanket around Jake and he broke his suction from her breast. “Why don’t you burp him while I lumber out of this bed and we’ll wheel him down to the nursery so I can take a nap?”

  “Let me wash my hands and you have a deal.” Nan hurried. Before taking the baby she placed a large cotton diaper over her shoulder to protect the baby from any germs. The soft scents of baby lotion and the feel of his warm little body snuggled up next to her were indescribable. At thirty, she was more than ready to have and love a child, but she wanted it all the old fashioned way. She wanted a loving husband, a successful marriage, and all the earmarks of a happy family that she’d missed as a child. The prospects of that happening were dwindling every year.

  Alexi rolled out of the bed moaning and groaning. Nan kept her mouth shut rather than tell Alexi that the more she moved the easier it would be.

  As Nan patted Jake’s little back she was rewarded with a soft burp and a big sigh. When it came time to put Jake in the rolling baby crib, Nan was reluctant to let him go. “I get first dibs on babysitting.”

  “Too late. Jesse’s mom has already staked them out.”

  “Then she’ll just have to share. If he starts wailing again, it might take two of us to settle him.”

  “You have a point.”

  They took the baby to the nursery, and as they headed back Nan glanced at her watch. “I’ve ten minutes left.”

  “Good. Just enough time to tell me why you’ve got dark circles under your eyes and you’re about as tense as a bride marrying the wrong groom. I should know. Are you still going with Brad tomorrow night? Did you and Jackson go out Friday after Jesse’s birthday?”

  Nan blinked. Her whole life had changed in the space of a few days and she hadn’t even been able to tell Alexi about it. What was there to say now? Nan sighed. “To make a short story even shorter, Jackson and I lit up the world in seventy-two hours, and then we crashed and burned. Brad still thinks I’m going with him tomorrow night, but I’m not. I’m going to meet him at six-thirty at the Sandpiper to tell him that I won’t be seeing him any more either. I’m solo again.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You mean you and Jackson meshed?”

  “We more than meshed. We mushed, mashed, and mated like there was no tomorrow, which as it turns out, there wasn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “He made a mistake. We both did.”

  “But he made “the mistake” first? He said that to you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  There was outraged fire in Alexi’s eyes. “He told you that after the hours he’s pumped me for information about you?”

  “He did?”

  “Hours. I’m going to string him up by his mistaker.”

  “Listen. It wasn’t like that, but it’s too complicated to explain right now. I’ll have to tell you later.”

  “I don’t care what it was like. You do me a favor. You go to the yacht party and you have a great time, because you’re a great person and you deserve it. Forget Jackson and forget Brad. Find yourself some other man who isn’t on that edge we talked about.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  “No, remember what you told me when my world fell apart? Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Don’t do it next time, Nan. You deserve today.”

  Alexi’s words stuck in Nan’s head. They inspired her. What she needed was a new plan for her life. She did deserve a “today.”

  * * *

  Jackson stood outside the cabin he'd lived in for the past four years and took a sobering look at it. Derelict and trashy were two words that came to mind. The rest of the words he'd just as soon not examine, because of what they might say about him. He could see some of the holes in the roof from where he stood.

  No wonder Nan had split when she'd awakened to the rain last Sunday. Hell, had that been just four days ago?

  Yeah. That his life had seesawed drastically in that time didn't surprise him. He of all people knew how quick one of fate's tornadoes could up and devastate a man's world, and then disappear into the sky, leaving only traces of a life behind.

  Nothing had changed since his family had tossed him in the creek to knock the edge off his two-day drunk yesterday, except for the fact that he was now sober. He didn't buy into their view, his parents', his brothers', and Nan's. He'd never stop believing that if he'd been driving that night, life might be different. Amy and his child might have lived. The possibility would always haunt him.

  That and the truth Jesse had slammed into him. By having his head held underwater until he'd thought he'd die, Jackson realized without a doubt he didn't want to die. Since then, the harsh wire brush of reality had scrubbed him raw.

  Wanting to live was a whole damn step above merely existing, and it pissed him off to have that muddy mask ripped away. Leaving his thoughts and his scrutiny of the cabin's sorry-assed condition, Jackson headed up the steps. He'd left his guitar behind when he'd left yesterday. His Mom had him staying in the room he'd shared with Jesse while growing up, and the memories that kept cropping up from the memorabilia scattered about the room was too disruptive. Jackson figured he’d drown the memories with music. If he was singing, even to just himself, he didn’t have to listen.

  He grabbed his guitar from the messed up bed and Nan’s image, naked, with her wild hair spilling onto his pillows played in his mind. A half-full bottle of whiskey sat on the floor next to the bed and he snatched it up, looking at how the sunlight made the amber fluid glisten like honey, like Nan. Determined, he marched to the sink and poured the whiskey, honey lights and all down the drain.

  It was done. Over. He and Nan had their sex now they’d both go back to their lives. Walking out of the cabin, he saw the plant Nan h
ad given him sitting on the dinette table where his mother had put it after watering it. Soon it would wither and die and he’d have nothing but memories of sex to remind him of Nan. Good, he thought, slamming the cabin door behind him. An action that had little effect because the damn door popped back open, reminding Jackson that the doorknob had fallen off and rolled to Nan’s feet the last time he’d slammed the door. The lock itself had to be stuck now.

  Memories of his weekend with Nan chased him all the way back to the family’s farmhouse. He drove up and had to park his truck down the drive. His brothers, Jesse, James, and Jared were going one on two at the basketball net.

  Damn, he didn’t want to have to deal with anybody. He just wanted to be left alone. Just as he knew it would, the minute he stepped out of the truck the basketball came zinging his way. Jackson caught the ball and thought hard about just dropping the damn thing and walking on into the house, or hopping onto his crotch rocket and taking off down the road. But then he remembered the “ride” Nan had given him on his bike and he cursed. He hadn’t ridden the damn bike since.

  Jackson threw the ball to Jesse and stripped off his shirt. What he needed was a mean game. The time to whip his younger brothers’ asses had come.

  He came at them hard, leaving no doubt in the stubborn blue gazes glaring at him, that he had something to prove. “Every man for himself.”

  He didn’t want their pity, and he didn’t want their sympathy, but if they were going to offer him a hell of a fight, he’d take that gladly.

  Nobody said a word. The next three hours were a grueling, muscle-straining marathon of grunts and sweat. Jackson was ahead by one over Jesse. Jared and James were tied at two below that.

  Their mother had called them to eat more than an hour or two ago. They didn’t even stop to answer her. Now it was dark, and the basket was about as visible as a gnat’s ass. They were still playing.

  Jesse knocked the ball from Jared and swung around to snag a basket. “Damn,” Jackson thought, seeing his lead about to disintegrate. He jumped, straining over James head to block the shot but missed. Just as the ball was about to kiss the rim in one honey of a shot, a blast of water knocked it from its intended purpose.