Chapter Twenty-Two
Ruby
Jessica takes the news as though I’m telling her that the sky is blue. “Cool”, she says, “That’s really cool.” I’m not quite sure she understands the concept of ‘Daddy’, but she seems happen at least that Jaxon seems to be filling that role, and she gets the chance to see him again. They didn’t have much time for bonding in Mexico, what with the constant attempts to take me hostage and all the life-saving that Jaxon seemed busy doing, but whatever they did do seems to have been enough to convince her.
I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to hear her call him Daddy, but thankfully when he arrives, Jessica is initially overcome by a fit of nerves and says nothing while hiding behind my legs.
“Hey”, Jaxon offers, but it isn’t enough for now to draw her out from her hiding place. We stand together in silence for a moment, before he leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. I hold him tightly against me while Jessica giggles and runs towards the kitchen ready to report a scandal to her grandpa.
I pull away and take the wine and flowers he’s brought with him. “You didn’t need to.”
Jaxon takes half a step closer to me to hook his finger under my chin. “Are you okay?” he asks, those disarming eyes all over me.
“Nervous”, I say.
Jaxon kisses me and I let my lips linger on his, while my tongue teases its way towards him. “Me too”, he confesses. “I’m terrified Jessica’s going to think I’m a dick.”
Jessica takes this moment to come running back into the hallway. When she sees us together, arm in arm, she stops abruptly, puts her hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle and then runs away again as quickly as she’s just arrived.
“She’s excited”, I say. “She’s been talking about you pretty much all day.”
“Only all day?” Jaxon says.
I roll my eyes and shake a smile. “You must be losing your touch.”
We make our way through the house towards the garden room out back where Dad is sat with Jessica now in his lap.
“Hey Jaxon”, he says as we enter, lifting Jessica to get to his feet. “You’re looking good.”
“Scars have almost healed”, Jaxon says, and it sounds like something he’s said about a thousand times before. “Something smells good in here.”
“It’s a family recipe”, Dad says, touching his nose. “A secret passed through generation to generation, ruined for years by me.”
Jaxon laughs while Dad passes Jessica to his other arm. I can’t help but notice she can’t take her eyes off Jaxon. “Well it smells amazing”, he says, “right, Jessica?”
Jessica nods when he looks at her and then buries her head in Dad’s shirt.
“Do you want a drink?” Dad offers. “We’ve got beer, wine, something stronger and something even stronger than that.”
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him so animated, but then it’s a long time since we’ve had cause to invite guests to the house. Things changed a lot when Mom passed away.
“I’ve got the car”, Jaxon says.
“Oh, don’t worry about that”, Dad says, “stay the night. I know you’re not doing anything tomorrow. You can read your daughter a bedtime story.”
Jaxon’s eyes come to mine. “I don’t know-”, I begin, unable to find a decent enough excuse.
“I better start with a beer”, Jaxon says, “just in case.”
Jessica still can’t keep her eyes off him, and while he sits down and Dad brings him a beer and then takes his own seat again, she hovers around him like a pilgrim might a religious monument, daring herself closer bit by bit.
I stand on the periphery for a while observing my daughter interact with her father, before my own father interacts with me, and brings me into the group. We sit down together in the conservatory, Dad and Jaxon in the armchairs, while I take to the sofa that faces them both and Jessica stands next to Jaxon, daring herself ever closer.
When Jaxon finishes his beer, and Dad offers him another, his eyes come to mine for confirmation. “There’s always the sofa”, I joke, and by the time I’ve got it for him from the fridge, Jessica is up on his knee looking like the cat that finally dared herself to get the cream.
Jaxon doesn’t bat an eyelid. He continues his conversation with Dad about politics, despite my previous insistence that the topic remain off the table for debate, while he hugs Jessica into his chest and she sits there like a princess nestled into her throne. The whole thing is so natural, it would be impossible to guess how little time they’ve known each other.
It’s hardly surprising with Jaxon’s magnetic charisma, but even with Rosa and Emilio, she’s never looked so content. Without a single word to each other, Jessica has climbed up onto his lap, pressed herself against his chest and claimed her place for the night, like a little monkey attaching itself to their parent. Getting them to separate again after this might be a little complicated.
I watch as Jaxon caresses Jessica’s hair, while listening to my father rattle on about the failures of the Bush administration, sipping beer and returning my glances every so often, and I can’t help but wonder about the possibility of finding happiness in this equation, which is something I never considered as a realistic option for me.
After Mom died and I left Jaxon for Mexico, after I buried myself in my work and even after Jessica was born, I never thought of myself as being someone that would ever arrive at a point where they could consider themselves happy, in the kind of ecstatic, unconditional way you read about in books and see on films, but right now, I wonder if for all of this time I’ve been wrong.
If I allow myself the possibility of believing, maybe it’ll come for me too.
“So”, Dad says, jolting me out of my reverie. “What do you think about all of this, Ruby?”
I smile. I may have completely lost the thread of conversation but I do know with absolute certainty what I want to say. “I think we should move onto another topic entirely.”
Dad is about to bite back at me, when Jaxon gets there first. “Actually, Ruby is right, I did promise no talking shop and no talking politics”, he says, his hands in the air. “Sorry, Dan.”
There is a brief pause while Dad moves an incredulous gaze from Jaxon to me, before screwing his face up at Jessica.
“Fair enough”, Dad says, getting up to get another beer. “We’ll take a raincheck on the state of this country for now, but this isn’t over.” He puts on oven gloves and checks the food, the incredible smell of stewed beef and rosemary floating across the kitchen to us all.
‘It never is’, I mouth to Jaxon.
“Almost there”, he says, rejoining us. “Who’s hungry?”
“Me”, Jaxon says, shooting his hand up in the air. “Me”, Jessica says, imitating him exactly, before Jaxon demands a high five and Jessica complies.
“It’s been in there for over six hours, Dad, surely it must be ready by now.”
“Your mother used to cook this over the entire weekend”, Dad says. “Used to go through three fuses a year. You knew it would be a good stew if the electrics blew.”
It’s a story I’ve heard about a hundred times, and each time it gets a little bit more exaggerated.
“You’re the chef”, I say, resigned to relinquishing control over just about every aspect of my life at the moment.
Dad takes his seat again. “So what can we talk about?” he says.
“We could talk about Mexico”, Jaxon offers, his eyes coming to mine for approval. “I’d love to hear some of your stories about that country.”
“I don’t know”, I say, resisting a little. “It isn’t all that exciting.”
“Mexican food then?” Jaxon suggests.
I laugh. “Mexican food is the best in the world”, I say.
“Hey”, Dad chimes in.
“Apart from the Winslow stew”, I add.
“Seriously though”, Jaxon says, “I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to over there. Five years is a long time to
catch up on.”
“Me too”, Dad adds, his comment a little barbed. “I haven’t heard a single thing about what you were up to over there.”
“Alright”, I say, nodding towards Jessica, “but not right now. I promise you I’ll tell you a story after we’ve eaten.”
“You know”, Dad begins, taking the hint, “part of the success of this dish is managing to resist the temptation. The longer you can put up with the delicious smells coming from the oven, the better it’s going to taste.”
At the door, he pauses, while the rest of us wait eagerly for the sign, like puppy dogs awaiting a command. “What are you waiting for?” Dad says finally, before we follow him into the kitchen.
Jessica insists on sitting about as close to Jaxon as she can without sitting on his knee, although given that option it’s clear she would take it. Dad carries the stew to the table reverentially, as though transporting the remains of a deity, lits the lid on his creation and then steps away proudly to give it room. Jessica plants her hands on the table, looks over the pot and breaths in a hot cloud of stew vapor that tickles her nose and makes her sneeze, thankfully into the crease of her arm. Jaxon pulls her back to safety, whispering something into her ear that makes her laugh I don’t hear.
“What about that?” Dad says, a huge smile on his face. “Your mother would be proud. Hell, your mother’s mother and even your mother’s grandmother would give me praise for this stew.”
He’s beginning to sound a lot like Jaxon. “The proof is in the pudding”, I say, intent on teasing him. “If you can win over Jessica with this concoction, you can pat yourself on the back.”
“Smells great”, Jaxon says.
“Right?” Dad agrees. “Ruby’s always been a bit fussy, you know, high standards.” Dad takes Jessica’s bowl from the top of the pile next to the pot and scoops out a huge portion. “Difficult to please, always searching for the best, that kind of thing.” Dad winks at me while he passes Jessica’s bowl to Jaxon, to give to our little girl.
I immediately intercept, and Jessica complains. “It’s way too hot, honey”, I say, moving the stew around to cool it. “You’ll burn your mouth.”
“I won’t”, Jessica says defiantly.
“You will”, I explain. “Jaxon is going to do the same, me too. You don’t want to burn your lips do you?”
“I’ll move it”, Jessica says, waving her plastic spoon in the air.
Not even five years old and already fiercely independent, I guess I get part of the blame for that. I slide the bowl over to her, but only after I’ve blown on it a couple of times. With Jaxon in place alongside her, the two of them move their stew around together, making circles with their spoons, which Jessica seems to think is the funniest thing in the world.
“Just make sure it’s cool before she eats it”, I tell Jaxon.
“You look like a natural at this kind of thing, Jaxon”, Dad comments, already a few spoonfuls into his bowl. “You got a big family?”
“Not at all”, Jaxon says. “An older brother living out in California, and a couple of cousins on my Dad’s side I’ve lost contact with, that’s about it. No kids. No kids before this one”, he corrects himself. “No previous experience.”
“It doesn’t show”, Dad says. “Both of you”, his hand sweeps the table to draw me in. “It’s a hell of a thing raising a child and Jessica has turned out just about perfect. Much like this stew.” Dad laughs heartily at his own joke. “Who wants another drink?”
“Maybe later”, I suggests, “when Jessica’s gone to bed.”
“Jaxon?”
“Why not?” Jaxon says. “I haven’t had a stew as good as this for-. You know what, I don’t think I’ve ever had a stew as good as this.”
“That’s the right answer”, Dad says, and hands him a beer. “What do you think Jessica?”
“Yummy”, Jessica says, tomato sauce already all over her lips.
“I don’t know how you do this every night”, Jaxon says. “I mean, I know how you do it obviously, because I know you, it’s just, this is hard work.”
“You can say that again”, I say.
“The hardest thing I ever did”, Dad says, his hand on my arm, “but the most rewarding too.”
“You’re not still going on about the stew”, I joke.
It either doesn’t bother him or he doesn’t hear me. Instead he wipes his mouth, pulls his chair in and leans forward. It’s his story telling face I’ve seen a thousand times.
“This girl”, he begins.
“I think I’ll have that glass of wine now”, I say, reaching for the bottle.
“More trouble than you can imagine.”
“I can’t imagine”, Jaxon says, smiling at me. “Ruby? Looks like butter wouldn’t melt.”
“Oh butter melted alright”, Dad says. “Butter practically burned in this girl’s mouth. As cute as a button but an absolute demon.”
“I don’t believe it”, Jaxon says ironically.
“Margaret and I wanted more kids but it didn’t happen for us”, he says. “I think that was part of it, you know, she was the only one, wanted the attention, acted up because of it. It wasn’t like we didn’t give it to her either.”
“Dad”, I complain.
“It’s incredible how well she’s turned out”, Dad says. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of her, and to think we could have lost her. She’s independent, intelligent, capable, she’s proved all of that time and time again. She could have told me a little earlier about this beautiful granddaughter of mine, but now that she’s back here in one piece, I’m not going to hold it against her.”
I sigh. “I’ll drink to that”, Jaxon says, his glass in the air.
“Thank you, Dad”, I say, while he pats my arm. “In my defence, it wasn’t easy growing up in a small community with both you and Mom in the police force. That’s almost as bad as having both of your parents teach you at school, with the added complication that as soon as I did something wrong, I knew avoiding punishment wasn’t an option. I was the one they made an example of. Strangely, it made me want to do as many bad things as I could even more.”
Jaxon leans forward. “Ruby Anderson”, he says. “The nerd in the trouser suit and the big glasses, this doesn’t sound at all like you.”
“I guess I grew up”, I say.
“Shoplifting, graffiti, expelled from two schools, drugs, stealing a car”, Dad says, counting the offenses off on his finger.
“I smoked pot once”, I say, “and that wa technically borrowing, not stealing.”
“A police car”, Dad says.
Jaxon leans back into his chair, a huge smile on his face. “You stole a police car?”
I shrug. “Borrowed”, I say again. “I was going to give it back. It was parked in the drive and I needed to go to the shops.”
“Fourteen years old”, Dad says, helping himself to more stew and then offering it around to everyone else.
“That was a long time ago”, I say.
“Thankfully”, Dad says. “I had to do night shift for two months to get the charge dropped. You don’t even know that part.”
I sip my wine guiltily. “I didn’t know that part.”
“It was hard work”, Dad says again, “but look what we’ve got. One of the world’s best investigative journalist, and one of the world’s best wrigglers.”
“I can’t believe you stole a police car”, Jaxon says across the table at me. “That’s really bad ass.”
“Technically borrowed”, I say, defending myself again. “The keys were already at home.”
“You’re a dark horse”, Jaxon says.
“I calmed down a lot at college, got it out of my system.”
“It was hard for all of us at that time”, Dad says, his hand back on my arm again. “It’s a miracle you turned out the way you did.”
Having two parents as police officers wasn’t the only reason I went off the rails. I was badly behaved before Mom died, but nothing like the girl
I became when she passed away. After Mom died, before I was barely a teenager, my whole life got turned upside down.
“That stew was the best I’ve ever had”, Jaxon says. “Seriously. I’d eat more, but I’d explode into a million pieces if I did, and I don’t want to make a bad impression.”
“That’s a reasonable enough answer”, Dad says, “thank you for your valoration.”
“Jessica?” Dad asks. What she hasn’t managed to get in her mouth is all over the table, her lips, her top, and spread across the floor below her.
She nods. “Delicious”, she says, sitting back into her chair like Jaxon and rubbing her belly.
“Ten out of ten”, I say. “It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten that, I had high expectations, you’ve fulfilled them.”
A smile shines across Dad’s face while I collect up the plates. From the kitchen I hear Jaxon lean towards Dad and ask, “was she really that bad?”
“Worse”, Dad says, and he’s not wrong either. I was absolutely awful at that time. It wasn't just the bad behaviour either, sometimes I’d go missing for days at a time, and not tell Dad where I was. I must have caused him so much heart ache. He’s never exactly been the most attentive parent, never exactly always been there for me when I’ve needed him, but that must have been so difficult for him. The last four years must have been torture too, and I’m only just realizing how much. I’ve got a lot of guilt about how I’ve behaved over the last few years, and a lot of work to do to make amends for it.
“Who want’s dessert?” I say, taking the cheesecake I’ve made through to the dining area and presenting it proudly on the table. For someone’s that’s not a natural cook, I’m overjoyed with how it’s turned out.
“Man this feels like a proper family meal”, Jaxon says, and I don’t know whether the image that conjures up of this situation repeating itself over and over again, terrifies or delights me. As I take my seat again, and look at the smiling faces all around me, I think what terrifies me most is the possibility I might get used to it and then lose it somehow.
“A little piece and then bedtime for you missus, okay?” I say to Jessica. “This is already way past your bedtime.”
Prime: A Bad Boy Romance Page 11
