The Pursuit of Jesse

by Helen Brenna

  Amidst the emotions rolling off him in waves the other night, she’d sensed that. She didn’t understand it, but she’d felt it.

  “The truth is that Jesse is one of the most misunderstood people I know. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized what a stand-up guy he was compared to the rest of us. He might’ve been the baby in the family, but he had more balls than me.”

  Knowing Garrett, that seemed hard to believe.

  “I remember time and time again,” Garrett said, “my dad would come home in a bad mood looking for a fight. The rest of us would hightail it outside, or hide in our rooms. Not Jesse. He’d get right in front of Dad and try to make the man laugh. Sometimes it’d work and defuse things, and sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes my dad would lighten up, but more often than not Jesse would get the back of a hand. You’d think a split lip would be enough to shut a kid down. Hell, it always shut me right up. Not Jesse.”

  “What would he do?”

  “He’d change tactics. If humor didn’t work, he’d purposefully antagonize my dad. Egg him on. Get him mad.”

  “Why? Why wouldn’t he just leave your dad alone?”

  “I think he was afraid that if he left my dad alone when he was in those gnarly moods, then Dad would take his anger out on someone else. Like one of us other boys. Or Mom. That was completely unacceptable as far as Jesse was concerned.”

  Emotion clogged Sarah’s throat.

  “Jess would step in front of a speeding truck to save someone else. That’s one of the things that’s so sad about what happened that night in Milwaukee four years ago.” He held Sarah’s gaze. “I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive himself for being the truck.”

  Once upon a time, she could’ve been in Jesse’s shoes. The fact that she hadn’t gotten caught didn’t make it right. The fact that she’d hurt no one but herself in the process had been sheer luck. She didn’t have a right to judge him, and it had been unfair of her to assume he’d be a bad influence on Brian. It was time she apologized to Jesse, and the best way she knew how to do that was to share with him everything she hadn’t been able to share with Missy about her past. Sooner rather than later.

  “By the way,” Garrett said. “Did you hear the bad news?”

  “No, what happened?”

  “Carl’s mom died.”

  “Jean Andersen died?” Sarah murmured. “Oh, my God, no.”

  Mirabelle Island’s retired pastor John Andersen and his wife, Jean, had been wintering in Arizona for years. She hadn’t known Jean very well, but she’d worked with John on many weddings before he’d retired, and even a few afterward. He was a kind-hearted, quiet man, and this would definitely be hard for him.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Massive heart attack. Apparently, John found her outside, near her garden. There was nothing he could do.”

  “BRIAN, ARE YOU SURE your mom said it’s okay for you to be here helping out?” Jesse asked from his crouched position in front of the old kitchen cabinets at Sarah’s house.

  Brian and Zach were completely inside the empty cupboards helping to detach the backs from the kitchen wall.

  “Positive. I swear,” Brian said. “She told me it was okay.”

  “All right. Just checking.” Jesse may have spilled his guts to Sarah at Duffy’s, but a part of him completely understood Sarah’s reservations. Now that the truth was out, though, he had to tell the boys. He’d delayed long enough.

  “She treats me like a baby,” Brian complained before Jesse could formulate any kind of way to broach the subject. “I’m sick of it.”

  “Maybe if you acted more grown-up,” Jesse said, “she’d treat you more like a grown-up.”

  “What do you mean?” Brian asked, poking his head out from the cabinet.

  “When’s the last time you helped out without being asked?”

  Brian frowned.

  “Try doing the dishes on your own sometime.” With four boys in the house and him being the youngest, Jesse had always gotten stuck with the worst of the household chores. “Getting your homework done before your mom asks about it.”

  “Whatever.” Brian grunted, as if he were dismissing Jesse, and slid back inside the old cabinet.

  “Hey, wait a minute. Come on back out here. Both of you. I need to talk with you guys about something.”

  They scrambled out from inside the cabinets, tools in hand, and sat there on the floor, both of them looking at him so innocently. So expectantly. And for what?

  He could deal with Jonas and Sean saying it like it is. He told himself he couldn’t care less about the judgments of the other people on Mirabelle that he didn’t even know, but somehow, someway, he’d come to care about what these young boys thought of him almost as much as Sarah.

  He sat down on the floor. “There’s something I haven’t told you about myself.” There was no easy way to do this. He just had to say spit it out. “Right before I came here to Mirabelle, I spent four years in prison.”

  Zach’s gaze slid away.

  “Yeah, we know,” Brian said.

  “You already know?”

  “I heard Garrett and Erica talking about it one night when they thought I was asleep,” Zach said.

  “Kids were talking about it at recess,” Brian added.

  “They said you probably killed someone.” Zach jerked his head back up and his cheeks got red. “We told them it wasn’t true.”

  Brian clenched his jaw. “I swear, I almost punched Alex.”

  “Nobody needs to punch anybody.” Jesse sighed. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I…I guess I was embarrassed.”

  “What did you do?” Brian asked.

  Zach cringed. “Was it bad?”

  “No one goes to prison without doing something bad.” Jesse looked into their faces and the urge to sugarcoat the situation shot through him. They were kids, he reasoned. He could paint any picture he wanted and they’d believe him. They’d want to believe him. But he couldn’t do that to them. To himself.

  “I was at a bar,” Jesse said. “I drank too much beer and then I drove my truck. I went off the road and I hit a man. Almost killed him.”

  For a moment, neither boy said anything. Then they looked at each other.

  “Yeah, that’s bad,” Zach said.

  “But at least he didn’t kill anyone,” Brian said.

  Zach nodded. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “No, listen.” Jesse shook his head. “Don’t make this seem like it’s no big deal. Just because I didn’t kill him doesn’t make it okay.”

  “But we like you, Jesse.”

  “And you’d never hurt us.”

  “No,” Jesse whispered. “I’d never hurt anyone. Not on purpose.”

  “See? You’re not a bad man.”

  “No, I’m not a bad man. Good people sometimes make bad decisions. You’re right. Everyone makes mistakes. Some of us, like me, make big ones. That’s why I had to go to prison. Just because I went to prison, though, doesn’t make everything okay.” He glanced from one to the other, hoping this was sinking in. “So if anyone says anything bad about me, you let it go. Understand?”

  Zach’s shoulders dropped.

  Brian frowned. “But—”

  “I mean it, boys. I don’t want anyone defending me, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone fighting for me. I did something very wrong. There’s no way around that. That means everyone on Mirabelle has a right to make up their own minds about me. So you just let them say and think what they want. And you walk away.”

  “Fine,” Brian muttered.

  “All right,” Zach agreed.

  “I have to learn from my mistakes. You two can learn from my mistake. We’ll all be better in the end.” If only Jesse could believe that. “Well, that’s that.” He smiled, feeling surprisingly relieved for the first time in a very long while. “Now, let’s get back to work!”

  The boys climbed back inside the lower kitchen cabinets as if nothing earth-shattering had happened
. Jesse wasn’t fool enough to think this conversation was over, but at least he’d broached the subject, opened the door for them to talk with him. With any luck, they would.

  “Don’t worry about breaking anything, Zach,” Jesse said, keeping the cabinet doors wide-open and shining a large flashlight into the darkness so the boys could see what they were doing. “Put some muscle into it, Brian. You two can get those screws out.”

  “These screws are really hard to turn,” Brian said.

  “You’ll get them,” Jesse said, keeping the tone of his voice as encouraging as possible. “Keep working on it. Only about fifty more screws to go.”

  “Fifty!” Brian groaned. “Oh, man!”

  “That’s too many!” Zach complained.

  “Ah, come on.” Jesse grinned. “Work together to zap those suckers out of there.”

  “You hold up the screwdriver, Zach,” Brian said. “And I’ll push it onto the screw.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Jesse said.

  The motor on the battery-operated tool sounded briefly. “We got it!” Zach exclaimed.

  “Good job. Keep going.”

  “Hello, there.” Sarah’s voice sounded from the front door. “How’s it going?”

  Jesse glanced up above the counter. She was taking off her coat and boots, looking as if she might stay awhile. This was the first time he’d seen her since Duffy’s and he wasn’t exactly sure how to be around her.

  Her boss. You lackey. Seemed best, all things considered, to keep things on that level.

  “Things are clipping along,” he answered. “Your bathrooms are finished, so the kitchen is next. First thing we have to do is to remove the old cabinets and counters.”

  She walked into the kitchen, and he immediately backed up, putting distance between them. Bending over, she glanced inside the cabinets. “What are you two doing in there?”

  “Helping,” Zach said.

  “Jesse needed the screws out of these cabinets, so he can install the new ones.”

  She straightened and smiled. “Looks like the boys have come in handy.”

  “You know it.” Jesse chuckled. “I’d be a little on the contorted side trying to fit inside there to unscrew the cabinets from the wall. They’re doing a good job.”

  In truth, they were barely strong enough to hold up the cordless screwdriver, and she knew it. But it was nice of them to help, and Jesse, surprisingly, enjoyed their company.

  “So what’s next after you dismantle the kitchen cabinets and counters?”

  “I’ll put in the floor.” He nodded toward the wide-width wood planks stacked against the wall in the living room. “Once that’s in, then I can install the new cupboards and counter.”

  Sarah’s expression turned soft. “Once you finish with the kitchen, the house will start looking like a home.”

  “Kitchens are the focal point for a lot of people.” Jesse looked away. The moment turned awkward, and he wracked his brain for something to say. “How—”

  “I—”

  They both talked at the same time.

  “You go first,” she said.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to salvage the old kitchen counter and cabinets. They’re outdated, but they’re still in good shape. They’d make for a nice workbench and storage.”

  “Where would you suggest putting them?”

  “Well, since you don’t have a garage, in the basement. I’ll show you.” He headed toward the stairs just off the side door into the kitchen. “Boys, we’ll be right back. You guys keep at it, okay?”

  “Okay,” they both said in unison.

  He flipped on the light at the top of the basement steps. It flickered for a moment before holding steady. “That’s a bad ballast. I can replace this one, but there’s more rewiring that needs to be done here and there, and I don’t do electricity.” He could, in reality, manage it, but it’d likely take him twice as long as an experienced electrician. “I recommend hiring someone to do the rewiring.”

  “Do you know anyone?”

  “No, but Garrett might.”

  She followed him down the steps and he crossed to the far corner.

  “I didn’t know you’d cleaned out the cellar,” she said. The basement had been filled with junk, broken screens, old dehumidifiers, discarded small appliances and the like.

  “On the first day,” he said. “Thought I’d better take advantage of the Dumpster.”

  “No wonder things seemed to be going a little slow initially. Why didn’t you say something?”

  He only slanted his head at her. They hadn’t exactly been on cordial terms back then.

  “Never mind,” she said, seeming to remember. “Thank you for clearing the mess out.”

  “Not a big deal.” He pointed to the corner. “The counter and cabinets would fit right here. Makes for a good work area.”

  “I was only planning on using the basement for storage, so that’ll work.”

  “I’ll make it happen.” He turned toward the stairs.

  “Jesse?”

  He paused, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to look at her. In fact, he was sure he didn’t.

  “About the other night,” she said. “At Duffy’s. I have something I need to say.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “YOU DON’T NEED TO SAY anything, Sarah.” He shrugged. “You were protecting Brian. You’re his mom. It’s your job.”

  “I need to explain why I’ve been so…”

  “Antagonistic toward me?” He cocked his head. “That’s okay. I figured I’d get that a lot just getting out of prison and all.”

  “I guess that was part of it.” She lightly touched his arm, holding him back. “Not knowing what you’d done… I have to admit, I got on the internet and tried to find out why you’d been sent to prison. But I couldn’t find any—”

  He laughed as he imagined her searching for him online. “That’s because my first name is really James. Jesse is a nickname. Been stuck with it ever since a game of cops and robbers when I was about Brian’s age. And, yes, in case you’re wondering…I was a robber, not a cop. Get it? Jesse James?”

  “Well, that explains it. I couldn’t find anything, so all kinds of horrific crimes went through my head. I imagined the worst.”

  “Sarah, it’s okay.”

  “No. It’s not. I—”

  The light flickered again, and then it went completely out. The narrow, belowground windows were caked with dirt and very little light filtered down from upstairs.

  Jesse wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but it seemed as if Sarah had stepped closer to him. “You okay?” he whispered, reaching out to steady her.

  “I’m fine.” She leaned into his touch, belying her words. Something was happening here between them and that was definitely not his imagination. “I just don’t like… This cellar is a little creepy, isn’t it?”

  “It’s old, but it’d sure come in handy if a tornado ever hit the island.”

  The light flickered on.

  “Uncle Jesse!” Zach called from upstairs.

  “Coming!” Jesse turned, thankful for the reprieve.

  “But I wanted to apologize,” Sarah said quickly.

  “Don’t sweat it.” Feeling as if a fire was at his heels, Jesse took the steps two at a time. “Gotta get back to work, or there’ll be hell to pay with boss lady.”

  Sarah followed. When they reached the kitchen, the boys were taking large gulps from a couple cans of sodas.

  “What’s up?” Jesse asked.

  “I can’t do any more,” Zach said, shaking his head.

  “Me neither,” Brian added. “My arms are shot.”

  “Well, you guys have been working pretty hard since you got out of school. I’ll do the rest.”

  “Let’s go back to my house,” Zach said. “And get something to eat.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Leave room for dinner,” Sarah cautioned. “Be home by six, okay?”

  Within minu
tes, the boys were dashing out the door, leaving Jesse alone with Sarah. Again. Attempting to avoid her, he slid halfway into the lower cabinets and was working to remove the rest of the screws holding the cabinets to the wall.

  “Jesse, can I talk—”

  “Now’s not a good time, Sarah. I’d like—”

  “I’m not going away. I need to say something. Please.”

  Jesse took his finger off the power button on the battery-operated screwdriver. There was something in her voice that didn’t seem right. “Okay, fine.” He slid out of the cupboard to face her and leaned back against the counter. “We might as well get this over with. Shoot.”

  “I have a confession to make.”

  “Oh, no.” Hell, no! “I don’t take confessions—”

  “I need you to listen.”

  “Sarah—”

  “There was a time in my life when what happened to you that night in Milwaukee could’ve happened to me.”

  That stopped him. What she’d just admitted was about as honest as confessions got.

  “I could’ve been driving a truck that caused a man to be paralyzed.” She had a hard time holding his gaze. “There was a time in my life when I could’ve hurt, or killed, someone. I’m not very proud of it.”

  “Don’t we all have some history we’d rather forget?”

  “Not like this.” She shook her head. “There are some things I did back then that make the hair stand up on the back of my neck.”

  “Sarah, you don’t need to tell me—”

  “Yes, I do.” She paused. “But maybe if you understand… I grew up in a small town in Indiana. I hit my teenage years and went just about out of my mind with boredom. I couldn’t get out of Indiana fast enough after I finished high school. Ended up in Florida. Started working for the wedding planner of Miami’s wealthiest. I couldn’t wait to start living. And, trust me, I crammed a lot of living into a few short years. Fell in with a bad crowd. Started partying, and…well, let’s say that I had more than the average person’s wild oats to sow and I sowed them but good.” Out of the blue, tears welled in her eyes. “Dipped my toes into a little more than top-shelf tequila.”