by Scott, S. L.
Jet Crow sang about drunken nights under a moon tower and having his brothers’ backs. But he also sang about finding something that was missing, not knowing what it was until it walked right in.
When the set ended, I ordered another shot for the singer—
“Hello?”
I look up, my shoes dragging along the wood porch until the swing comes to a stop. A woman stands on the top step. Her bleached hair is smooth instead of teased. Her lips are nude instead of being deep red. There’s no cleavage pushed up under some too tight shirt, and her skirt is church appropriate. She looks different than I remember, but I know who she is from the other times I’ve seen her. Marcy. Before I have time to brace myself with concern to why she’s standing in front me, she asks, “Is Jet here?”
Standing up, I move toward the door I left open. I reach in and close it enough to hide Alfie from her view. “No, he’s not.”
“Oh, darn.” She looks at her watch like she’s late for something more important.
“Why are you here?” I can’t control my rude tone. This woman is dangerous because of her connection to Hunter, but also because the first time I saw her, she was clawing at Jet for his attention. So I save the courtesies for someone who deserves them.
A quick onceover covers me from head to toe and once more for good measure it seems. I’m not dressed particularly nice, not realizing I had to prove my worthiness to be here to a woman who was a two-time thing for him. I’m too exhausted to make an effort and play these games.
Then the clouds seem to clear, and she says, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
“I’m sorry for bringing Hunter to the house that night. I had no idea about you and him until I saw it—the fear in your eyes, the painful memories, the . . . I’m just sorry. He used me to get to Jet and Johnny Outlaw.”
“If you weren’t in on his plan, you don’t have to apologize. I just hope that night showed you what you were dealing with when it comes to him. He’s not a good person.”
“He hit me in the car when we left. I hit him twice as hard back, then he stopped the car and pushed me out the door, leaving me there.” She looks ashamed. Shame. I remember feeling the same. Sometimes I still do. I shouldn’t, but I’m a work in progress.
“You didn’t deserve that.”
“It was the wake-up call I needed, though. My life had been spiraling out of control for a while. Hitting that street was my rock bottom. The next day, I went home for a few weeks. I’m going back to San Antonio tonight, but I owed Jet an apology. I owe you one too. I’m glad you were here.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. I’m sorry Jet’s not here, but I can tell him or . . .” As much as I don’t want women texting or calling Jet, I trust her. “Or you can call him.”
“Not sure if that’s wise.” She gets it. “Do you mind passing along the message for me?”
“Not at all.” We stand there in awkward silence, so I break it because she deserves credit for making the effort to make amends. “Your hair is pretty like that.”
She touches it and looks down, feeling shy from the compliment. I can see how we may not be alike on the outside, but on the inside, we have a few things in common. Holli’s words ring back through my head about learning to take compliments. I get what she meant. I am enough. I am enough because I like who I am. I am enough because Jet loves me. Despite the prickly parts, he always finds my soft side. “You deserve to be treated well, Marcy. Find someone who loves you for who you are and not who you know.”
When she turns to go down the stairs, she stops. “Thank you, and Hannah?”
Standing there, I almost expect the showdown that never happened. “Jet’s an amazing man, but you’re an amazing woman too. I’m glad he found you.”
“Thank you.”
We don’t hang out and chitchat or become besties, but I go back inside and feel happier that we’ve both found our way. But more importantly, when I sit on the couch and Alfie climbs onto my lap, I’ve found him. I didn’t know if I’d ever be a mother, but I’ve been given this child to raise, and he’s become my heart.
And soon, Jet will return to us, to his home, to our hearts right where he belongs. Together, this is family.
My family.
The only family I need.
33
Hannah
I knocked twice just to be polite, but my aunt doesn’t answer her door, so I let myself in. I’m here after promising Alfie I would finally come get his books while he’s at school. The time had come because Jet flies home tonight.
If he were here, he’d insist on coming with me, and I don’t want him and my aunt together. That war would end in bloodshed. Since the custody hearing is coming up, it’s best to keep them apart.
I have to be quick. In and out. If I can avoid her, that’s probably best as well. I’m in no mood to fight, and there’s no way she’s not going to start one with me.
I don’t see the books in his room. I dig around and then find one on his nightstand. I grab it and toss it in the backpack, but anxiety fills my stomach because I realize if the books aren’t in his room, that means they’re in Cassie’s. Her room is off-limits . . .
Alfie. It’s for Alfie. Cassie would want him to have his favorite books because he shared them with his mother. Eileen will understand, but maybe if I’m super quick, she’ll never know I was here.
It’s been a few months since my cousin’s death, and the room still smells of her perfume and the faint scent of cleaner that was used to keep things sterile. I tiptoe in as if I’ll wake her and try to avoid looking at the bed. I remember the last time I saw her and some of the things we talked about before she died.
Eileen was at the grocery store, so I asked the questions I’d always wondered and had never gotten an answer before. “How did you come up with Alfie’s name?” I asked.
Cassie had a few rough nights and was struggling to keep her eyes open, though she held my hand tightly in hers as if begging me to keep her there, to keep her awake. We all feared she’d drift off to sleep and never wake up, but over the past few days, I had prayed she’d go peacefully. A smile, though weak, shined on her face. “I had the worst crush on Jude Law.”
I had no idea how the two were related, and before I had time to ask, she added, “Jet is Alfie’s father’s name.”
Her lids dipped closed, and I was relieved. If I’d been standing, I would have stumbled. Jet. Not a common name. I was always curious if it was possible that she knew the same Jet I’d met and fallen for him as I had. Walked away with more than the regret that I didn’t stay. She walked away with a baby.
My thoughts spun around my head. I’d heard such bad things about Alfie’s dad—lowlife, love ’em and leave ’em, heartless—which was why I struggled to connect that Jet to my Jet. The name may be uncommon, but how they described him could never be the man I’d met. He was nothing less than caring and responsive, romantic, and kind.
She said, “Promise me you’ll find him and tell him about Alfie.”
“Cassie—”
Her grip on my hand tightens, and the words rush from her mouth through heavy breaths. “Promise me, Hannah. Promise me.”
“I promise.”
She relaxes and says, “I have a will that my mom doesn’t know about. Make sure the lawyers get it.”
“Where is it?”
“Under a box in my dresser.”
My gaze flicks across the room. She’s been bedridden for at least a month now. She says, “Alfie put it there for me. He knows all my secrets.”
“What secrets are those?”
I know I’m not mistaken. I see the light in her eyes, the happiness shining through. “About his father.”
“What about his father, Cassie? You can tell me. I won’t tell your mother anything.”
“She hates him. I get it. I made her hate him by sharing too much with her. But Jet and I were young, so young. I didn’t know better. I just wanted my mother to help me through
the breakup. I lied to her—”
Oh, my God! I remember now. Eileen came home so we stopped talking, but I remember Cassie trying to tell me everything. She lied to Eileen. She lied to her about Jet and the breakup.
I have to find her journal. No wonder Eileen was looking for it. I just hope she never found it. I go to the dresser and open the drawers until I find her box of mementos. Needing to be quick, I open it and dig through—prom flower, Alfie’s christening pamphlet, a bar flyer. I stop and look at the lineup. The Crow Brothers were the opening act. With nothing that can lead me to the journal, I put the lid back on and move it aside to search the drawer.
When she passed away, I got the will as promised and her wishes inside is what sent me seeking out Jet. At the time, I didn’t remember that short conversation with Cassie. I was too buried in my grief and all I could hear were Eileen’s words being whispered in my ear. I owe him an apology. So many.
After searching the drawers, her closet, the nightstand, and around her bed, I know I don’t have enough time to continue. I want out of here and need to remember my mission—Alfie’s books. I grab the stack I find beside her bed and fill my backpack. Looking around the room once more, I don’t think there’s anything worth keeping other than a photo album I found with the books.
I take it and leave as fast as I can.
* * *
“Hannah?”
Jet’s behind me, so I turn around. “Huh?”
“I’ve called your name three times.”
“You have?”
“Yes.” He stirs the vegetables in the pan. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I grip the counter behind me. “Just a lot on my mind.”
“Want to share?”
I glance once more at Alfie who’s been sitting on the couch for the last hour quietly reading his books. “I think I’d like a glass of wine.” I don’t drink much, but something’s unsettled inside me that I can’t pinpoint and the need to calm this twisting is strong. I check on the chicken in the oven and then grab a bottle of wine from the fridge.
Jet sets a glass in front of me and twists the cap. I start to pour when Alfie says, “Here it is. My favorite part.”
Seeing him so content, so happy makes me happy. “You’re such a good reader. Will you read it to us?”
He says, “I can’t read what Mommy writes sometimes. Her letters are curly.”
Jet asks, “Your mom wrote it?”
Alfie nods. I’m fast, sitting next to him as soon as I reach him. “Show me what your mommy wrote.”
Opening the book wider, there are pages of handwritten notes tucked between the pages of the nursery rhyme book. My hand covers my mouth as I try to hold in my surprise.
Jet’s leg presses to mine as he leans over us and reads. “Jet Mercury Crow. This is about me.”
Alfie nods again with even more excitement. “Mommy told me all about you and said I would know you when I met you.” He holds up a picture of Jet laughing. Looks like something from a magazine or article that was printed from a computer. That is why he ran to him straight away when they first met. “That you’d want to be my daddy.”
“I do, buddy.”
I look up at him, his hand running through his hair and the other rubbing the inside corners of his eyes. He’s standing, but I still wrap my arm around his legs. I want him to know I’m here for him however he needs.
Alfie hands him the notes, and Jet begins to read, “I fell in love with your daddy the first time we met. And he loved me . . .”
My heart begins to ache, and I bring my arm back to my side. I’m not sure what to do or how to feel. I feel like an invader into this private moment. But worse, I feel like an impostor, a replacement in this family. My family.
Standing up, I walk to the front window and stare out as he reads silently while sharing some lines here and there. They had their ups and downs, but she was in love with him.
He was recording an album. He explains they never did finish due to money and time, so it became their EP. I hear him, but the words become muffled as I shrink inside myself, wanting to hide, knowing I was never supposed to have this life, a life I’ve come to love. This is a life of dreams come true and now . . . I’m unworthy of it just like so many have said. She was supposed to be in my shoes. Cassie deserved this happiness, not me.
“Hannah?” My eyes meet Jet’s, worry creasing his forehead. “Did you hear that?”
“No. I’m sorry. What?”
Getting up from the couch, he comes over and wraps his arm around my waist. With the paper held in front of me, he says, “Second paragraph.”
I read it to myself.
I’m sorry for pushing him away. I only wanted what was best for him. I wanted to see his dreams come true and not be the reason they’re taken away. He’s an upstanding man who would drop everything if he knew, but what he has to offer the world and his child later is worth more.
Turning into him, I rest my head on his chest. Cassie lied to everyone to help Jet make his dreams come true. “She knew you’d quit performing to be there for her, so she made it so you would never look back.”
“She started that fight with me to seal our fate, and I fell for it.”
“These are notes from her journal. Eileen’s been searching for it, and here, they were hidden in Alfie’s books.” I see that kid with the big smile sitting on the couch not even realizing how epically big this is. “You knew, pipsqueak, didn’t you?”
“I pinky promised Mommy I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
Jet says, “You did good, Alfie.” Giving my waist a little squeeze, he kisses my head. “Read the next paragraph.”
I wrap my arm around him and continue to read. “Hannah Lynn Nichols, my cousin. I think she’s in love with Jet. She spent a week reliving every moment with me. She never said his name, but I knew from how she described him. That’s destiny, Alfie. You’re going to be the one who brings them back together. If he can make her that happy after being together once, imagine how happy she’d be if they had a lifetime together.”
Jet whispers into my hair, “You should have told me. I knew I loved you then.”
“I wanted you together too. Did I make Mommy happy?”
We turn to Alfie at the same time, and Jet says, “You did.”
“You brought us together, Alfie,” I say, “just like she wanted.” Tilting toward Jet, I look up. “She saw through it all.”
“I don’t like that I didn’t know about Alfie. I missed a lot and have a lot to make up for, but we’re getting there. As for Cassie, she was good for me when my mom died. She may have loved me, and I loved her in that I cared about her, but it’s not the same as what we have. I’m in love with you, Hannah.”
“I’m in love with you, too.” The lump returns to my throat when I read the last part, and I tear up all over again. “My sweet Alfie, you will be with your daddy, but you will have Hannah. She loves you like I do, like I always will, but she’ll be the mommy you need when I’m not there.”
Like he knew already, he nods. “She told me that.” Maybe he did know all along.
“About me being your mom?”
Nodding again, he says, “She said I can call you mommy if I want, and it won’t hurt her feelings.”
I sit next to him. “You can call me that if you like.”
“Okay.” He pops up and off the couch like I didn’t just have the most emotional conversation of my life. Kids keep the levity in check.
Once Alfie goes to bed, Jet and I sit quietly in his room going through every book and pulling the journal papers from between the pages. It’s a big stack, and something we’ll always cherish. I’ll protect them and keep them safe for Alfie. He knows when he reads them, he gets to be with his mommy again in a way. It’s quite a gift she has given him.
“Cassie was hiding these from Eileen. It was the only way she could tell Alfie about you. She was preparing him to be with you, to accept you, and love you.”
“She was preparing
him for her to be gone and for us to be together.”
“This could have been her sitting here with you.”
“No,” he says, rubbing my leg. “We were kids. Neither of us knew what it meant to be in love. Whereas, I knew I loved you from the very beginning. You didn’t step into her position in my heart, Hannah. She never claimed a spot. Only you. Just as it should have been. Only you.”
I rest my head on his stomach, staring up at the pages I hold above my head. “This is proof, beyond the written will, that she wanted you to have custody of him.”
“Yes. I’m showing the lawyer in the morning. But the one thing I don’t understand is why Eileen is so adamant about winning custody. She must have known her daughter’s wishes. She read it in the will. Who I was at nineteen, hormonal and high-strung isn’t who I am now. So we had a fight. Would her mother really still hold the grudge from lies she was told?”
“Seems extreme.” My eyes scan the pages, and then I see it. Sitting straight up, I say, “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
I point at the page. “It’s here. All right here.”
34
Hannah
The judge looks back and forth between our side of the table and theirs. My aunt with her expensive lawyer by her side stares at us. Her eyes on me are dull and emotionless, not even anger seen in the dark centers. It’s as if she doesn’t know me at all.
I guess she doesn’t anymore. Maybe she never did.
I don’t feel the loss either. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for how she’ll have no one but my father to care about her. I feel sorry that she’ll miss out on the love I have to give. But I feel most sorry that she won’t get to see that amazing grandson of hers grow up. Her hate will keep her at a safe distance from ever being in our lives.
She thinks she’s going to win because her lawyer charges more per hour than ours. The judge doesn’t take that into consideration, though.
So as we sit at this table, and the judge is about to begin, I just feel sad for the woman who was once my aunt and now is nobody to me.
