Read Breaking Josephine Online
Authors: Marie Stewart
Breaking Josephine (13 page)
“How old were you
when she died?” I asked.
“Fifteen. Old
enough to have helped her, if I’d been here, if my father hadn’t sent me away.”
“Dex, you were a
child. You can’t blame yourself for your mother’s death.” I paused, trying to
decide whether to press him any further. I decided he wouldn’t have mentioned
his mother if he wasn’t comfortable talking about her. “It was cancer, right?” I
asked gently.
“Yes. Ovarian
cancer,” he answered.
“Well, cancer
isn’t something a fifteen-year-old Dex had any control over,” I said, slightly
mad at him for feeling guilt over his mother’s death.
“By the time the
doctors diagnosed her,” Dex said, “it was stage IV and had progressed to her
liver. There was nothing anyone could do. If she had gone to the doctor, had
told anyone her symptoms, she could have been treated, could have beat the
cancer, could be alive today.”
“Why didn’t she
go?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t pushing Dex too far.
“She was always so
stoic when it came to her own pain and her own feelings,” he replied, “she
would never let anything she might be feeling, including suffering, get in the
way of her family and what was right for them. I think she didn’t want anyone
to know she was sick, didn’t want to disrupt our lives, so she just ignored it
until it was too late.”
“You couldn’t make
her choices for her Dex,” I said, “she was in control of her decisions, not
you. You can’t blame yourself for the choices she made, even if they turned out
to be the wrong ones.” I looked out at the ocean and we were both quiet for a
while, each thinking about the mothers we lost too young.
“When you were a
kid it was just you and your mom, right? No aunt, or uncles or other family?”
Dex asked me, finally breaking the silence.
“Yes,” I said
simply. “It was always just me and my mom. Until it was just me.”
“When your mom
died, what happened to you?” Dex asked.
I inhaled and
forced the air out in a rush. “I remember the police and a social worker at my
house. They told me there had been a car accident and my mom died on the scene.
They asked me all sorts of questions, where she was going, what she was doing,
was she with anyone. I told them all I knew, which wasn’t much since I was only
twelve. She had told me she was going away for the weekend on business, that
she might be getting a new job, and that she would be back Sunday. I didn’t
even know where she went. The social worker helped me collect some things, and
took me to a halfway house. I stayed there for a few, horrible days. All the
girls were juvenile delinquents, mostly teenagers. I slept on a cot in a room
with five other girls and tried to keep to myself. A few days later, the same
social worker came back and took me to Overton, the orphanage I lived in until
I turned eighteen.” I paused and looked up at Dex. He sat there impassively,
still looking out at the ocean.
“What happened to
your house? To all of your things?” he asked gently.
“We rented the
house,” I said, looking up to the sky trying to remember. “And I suppose the
landlord either sold them or threw them all away. I took a few things of
sentimental value with me when I left the house, and a few clothes, but being
twelve, and a typical, self-obsessed tween, I didn’t have the common sense to
take anything of value. And even if I had, it would have been stolen at
Overton. I have a few photos, a favorite stuffed animal, that sort of thing. But
we didn’t have any money, and even if we did have something of value, which I
doubt we did, I didn’t know what it would be.” I looked over at Dex, tucking a
stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“What did your mom
do for a living?” Dex asked, still curious.
“My mom waited
tables while I was at school,” I said. “She never went to college, so it was
the best job I think she could get. It’s funny, until I grew up, I didn’t
realize how poor we actually were back then. I remember begging my mom for a
store bought cake for my birthday when I turned twelve—a white one with
big pink roses on the top and green piped icing spelling my name. She’d always
made a cake from scratch for my birthday, decorating it herself with chocolate
frosting, reusing the same candles every year. She always told me it was
because the homemade cakes tasted better, but I recognized when I got older it
was because she couldn’t afford to buy one. She’d stay up late into the night
after I’d gone to bed, making that cake every year, and all I did was complain
I couldn’t have a stupid pink and green one from the store.”
My breathing grew
jagged and I looked out at the water. Dex reached out his hand, found mine, and
brought it to his lips. “Your mom knew you loved her, Jo. You didn’t have to
thank her or tell her so, she knew.”
I sniffed,
fighting off the tears. “I know, I just wish I’d had more time with her, that
she didn’t leave me so long ago.”
“I know, I wish
the exact same thing,” he said, pulling me to him. We sat there, curled up
together, comforting each other, as the sun set over the ocean.
I spent the night
at Hartley Manor that night, curled up in Dex’s arms in his enormous bed
beneath the stars. I woke early Sunday morning to the smell of fresh coffee and
Dex kissing my neck. I rolled over and smiled, wrapping my arms around him and
snuggling further into the down comforter. “Wake up sleepy head,” Dex crooned
in my ear. “As much as I’d love to spend all morning with you in bed, I know
you’ll be mad at me and yourself if you don’t make it to work on time.”
I groaned and let
him go. “You’re right, but oh how I wish I had the day off.” I stretched,
trying to clear my head of sleep.
Dex kissed me on
the forehead and stood up. “I’ll drive you to work, just let me know when
you’re ready to go,” he said as he walked out of his bedroom and down the
stairs. I pushed the comforter off me and trudged into his bathroom to get
ready for work.
I pulled out my
toiletry bag, brushed my teeth, and hopped into the shower. When I got out of
the shower, Dex was standing in the bathroom, looking at my bag and frowning.
“What?” I asked,
toweling off my hair.
“How long have you
been on birth control?” Dex asked, still frowning, and obviously staring at the
pill pack in my bag.
“I’m sorry, what?”
I said, flipping my hair back and wrapping the towel around my body.
“How long have you
been on birth control?” he said.
“I don’t think
that’s really any of your business, but if you must know, since Friday. Macy’s
doctor had a cancellation and I saw her Friday afternoon and filled the
prescription the same day. Why?” I said, walking over to my bag and zipping it
shut.
Dex closed his
eyes and pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, it’s none
of my business, you’re right. I just had a moment of jealous panic. This has
all happened so fast and we haven’t really talked about anything, and I thought
maybe for a minute you were seeing someone else.” He opened his eyes and looked
at me, seeking reassurance.
I laughed. “Dex,
don’t be ridiculous, how would I even have time for anyone else, let alone want
anyone else.” I paused, changing tones and becoming serious. “I just don’t want
a baby right now, and wanted to be safe. You’re okay with that, right?”
“Of course I’m
okay with that,” he said, as he lifted me up and set me on the counter, my
towel falling open. He kissed me on the lips as his hands found my bare skin,
running up and down my sides and making me shiver. He cupped my exposed breasts
with his hands, running his fingertips over my nipples, hard from the cold
bathroom air. My body shuddered with his touch and I moaned as he took my
exposed nipple in his mouth. I arched into him, feeling myself wet with desire.
He let me go and looked me in the eyes. “Look, Jo, just so you know, I’m clean.
I’ve been tested every six months since I was seventeen, and I’ve only ever had
sex with a condom. Before you, I’d never even had a blow job without a condom.”
“Honestly?” I
said, as I sat there, naked and exposed.
“Honestly,” he
said as ran his hands up my sides and over my breasts, my body shuddering again
underneath his touch. He kissed me on the lips and pulled my towel back around
me. “You should probably get dressed. You don’t want to be late for work,” he
said smiling mischievously, as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving me
breathless, still sitting on the bathroom counter.
After work on
Sunday, Dex and I spent the afternoon together, wrapped up in each other and
wrapped up in the sheets of his bed. A thin drizzle started early afternoon and
appeared to be lasting into the evening, so spending the day in bed seemed like
a perfectly reasonable idea. By the evening we both worked up quite an appetite
and Dex ordered Chinese from the best delivery in the area. We sat on the couch
in his living room, eating noodles out of the cartons, drinking wine, and
enjoying each other’s company.
“So, I’ve been
wondering, is Jo short for anything?” Dex said, as he stuffed a mouthful of
noodles into his mouth.
“Josephine,” I
said. “But only my mother called me that, so I go by Jo.”
Dex looked at me
thoughtfully for a moment. “What was your mother’s name?” he said, seeming far
away.
“Rebecca, Rebecca
Sinclair. Why?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“I realized I
didn’t know, that’s all,” Dex said, smiling at me, but still distant. “Oh,
before I forget to tell you,” Dex went on, changing the subject, “I need to go
to Portland for a few days starting tomorrow. I need to check in on the
business. As I’m sure you know, I have a full suite of executives who run
Hartley Industries, so my involvement can be minimal. But I have a few projects
currently underway that I’m particularly interested in and would like to manage
a bit more closely.”
I pouted, sticking
my lower lip out at him.
“Oh, don’t pout,”
he teased. “I’ll be back Friday. Can I pick you up at 8:00? How about I take
you on a real date—dinner out for a change?”
I smiled and
clapped my hands like an excited child and answered, “I’d love that. I suppose
I can live without you for five days. I did it for 22 years after all.”
“Yes, but back
then you didn’t know what you’d be missing,” Dex said as he pulled me to him
and kissed me, setting his take-out container on the table.
“Oh gosh, I’m
sorry,” I said as I collected myself and took a step back.
“No problem. It’s
good to see you Jo. In a hurry?” Colin asked me as he picked up a bottle of
quite expensive red wine.
“Oh, no not
really, I was just grocery shopping and lost in my thoughts,” I said, trying to
be friendly.
“I can see that. Any
big plans tonight?” Colin asked.
I looked at him,
surprised he’d even want to make conversation since we hadn’t exactly hit it
off. “No, I’m just going to grab a few things and try and get out of here before
the rain, go home, and relax,” I said, shifting my weight on my feet. I didn’t
want to be rude, but I really didn’t want to walk home in the rain. I figured
if I saw him again later I’d just apologize. “Well, good to see you again
Colin, but I need to run,” I said, half waiving at him as I walked away.
“Good to see you
too …” he called after me as I almost ran down the aisle to the milk.
I finished
shopping and headed for the checkout. As I stood waiting in line a large flash
of lightning followed by a clap of thunder announced the rainstorm’s arrival. The
rain soaked the front windows of the store and sent the tourists outside
running every which way seeking shelter. I groaned and hung my head.
“I see you didn’t
make it before the rain started,” Colin said as he walked up to join me in
line.
“No, apparently
not,” I answered. “And I really am not looking forward to walking home in
that.”
“My car is right
there and I don’t have anywhere I need to be,” he said. “How about I drive you
home?”
I raised my
eyebrows and looked at him. Apparently the grocery store was the place to find
good looking men willing to drive me home. But Colin had never been anything
but weird and slightly hostile, and his offer and ostensible sincerity confused
me. I looked out at the sheets of rain soaking everything in sight, turned back
to Colin, and smiled, finally saying, “That would be nice, thank you.”
“No problem,” he
answered.
We checked out, each
of us carrying one of my grocery bags, and ran to his waiting SUV. It was an
old Jeep Cherokee, well maintained, but worn—not the ostentatious car I
was expecting.
