Close to You (26 page)

Twenty-Nine

J
ACKSON LIMPED INTO HIS HOTEL
room. He was testing out his ankle without crutches, since he had to return them to the hospital the following morning.

At least the shards of pain spiraling up his foot kept him distracted from the epic disaster his life had become. He hadn't even thought that was possible when he'd agreed to come to this blasted country—turned out he was wrong! Like he'd been about everything recently.

The whole day was a blur. He'd gone down to breakfast, steeled himself to see Allie and feel nothing, only for Kat to tell the group that Allie had a family emergency and wouldn't be back. He hadn't missed the sympathetic glance Kat sent his way.

He'd then spent half the day trying to dodge writing in the card one of the twins had rustled up for the group to send to Allie. He'd failed, but had managed to get away with just scrawling his indecipherable signature.

The rest of the day was spent avoiding his uncle, who gave him knowing eyes every time he looked his way.

Thankfully, his ankle provided the perfect cover to miss a few activities and sit around and stew in his own septic funk instead.

He couldn't believe she was gone. Just like that.

He didn't even bother trying to convince himself he was fine about it—not when his entire being felt like it had been swallowed by a black hole.

Married. How could she be
married
? It was like the punch line to a really bad joke.

Hopping into the bathroom, he popped a couple of the codeine pills he'd been prescribed and washed them down with a glass of water.

He checked his watch. Right on time to talk to Beth. Hopping back into the main room, he flopped onto the queen-size bed and opened his laptop.

Sucking in a breath, he tried to find some sort of equilibrium.
Time to get some perspective, Jackson.
What his parents were dealing with was way worse than anything he was going through.

He opened up his Skype screen and checked to see if his sister was already online. Her icon flashed green on his screen, so he hit the
VIDEO CALL
button. It only got out a split second of the calling tone before the little
schwoop
sounded. However, instead of his sister's face, his parents appeared.

They looked . . . relaxed? He rubbed his eyes and maximized the screen. No, he hadn't been mistaken; some of the stress shadowing their faces the last time they'd talked was gone.

Something lifted inside him—maybe they'd had some good news from the doctor and things weren't as bad as they'd first thought.

“Hi, Mom. Dad.”

“We've sold the farm!”

He blinked. Tried to process what they'd said. No hello, nothing. “What do you mean you've sold the farm?”

His dad wrapped an arm around his mom's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Well, we don't have the cash yet. We settle next week, but it's all locked in.”

“I don't understand.”

His mom smiled. A real genuine grin. “We got a good offer. A more than generous offer. Enough that we can buy a smaller place a bit closer to town with enough money left over to fund most of my treatments.”

Had the entire world gone mad? “But the farm's been in our family for five generations. You've put everything into that land.”

His dad leaned forward, his nose and lips taking up the screen. “You're right, son, but not everything is meant to last forever, Jackson. We've loved our life here, but things change. Nick and Beth have their own place to look after and you don't want to be a farmer. I'm sixty years old. It's time to let it go.”

He wished he could rebut his father, but his dad was right. There was not a single atom of Jackson that wanted to be a farmer. Not even to keep the farm his great-great-great-grandfather had won in a poker game in the family.

“Your mom's illness has been a blessing.”

Jackson blinked, unwilling to accept what he'd heard. Stage-three cancer a blessing?

Another shoulder squeeze. “Not knowing how much time she may have left has made us prioritize the important things in life. Spending time together, enjoying Lacey, Dylan, and Baby Bean. We want to travel and spread our wings a little. We may even come and visit you.”

“But I was going to get you the money . . . I was going to find a way . . .” His words trailed off. He couldn't promise that. The odds were at least fifty-fifty Louis wouldn't invest in him. And if that happened, he had nowhere left to turn.

His father leaned forward. “Son, I need you to listen to me. We appreciate everything you've done for us. We truly do. But we never asked you to rescue us, Jackson. That's not your job. Never has been. Never will be. I'm not sure how you got the idea this was your burden to bear.”

Because he'd left. Because he was a disappointment. Because he figured if he didn't want to be a farmer, he at least had to redeem himself in other ways.

“At the end of the day, Jackson, it's only dirt. Lots of dirt. Has it been in our family a long time? Sure. Will I miss it? Of course I will, but it's not everything. I'm a husband first, then a father, then a grandfather. Those God-given roles are way more important and mean far more in eternity than the ground I till.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He didn't even know why he asked the question. It wasn't like he could conjure up a better solution out of thin air.

“It's an answer to prayer.” His mother's gray bob bounced as she nodded. “More than. We prayed that if God wanted us to sell, He would send a buyer to offer at least enough for us to pay off our debts and buy a new place. What He's provided is one who is paying far, far more.”

Jackson studied his parents' faces. They were both terrible liars and there was no sign they were trying to put on a brave face for his sake. No, they looked genuinely happy. Relaxed, even.

“Well, then, that's great. I'm glad it's all worked out.” It was the best he could manage in his still shell-shocked state. “When will you be moving?”

“Even though we settle next week, the new owner isn't in a hurry to take over. His lawyer said he's happy for us to stay until we've found a new place if we still run the day-to-day operations. He'll take over paying the staff, utilities, everything.”

It all sounded too good to be true. Well, as good as it got in the circumstances. But if there was anyone who deserved to be the beneficiaries of such good luck, it was his parents.

“That's great.” What was he killing himself for? The farm was gone, his parents didn't need money for his mom's treatment. The idea of getting his investors their money back no longer drove him mad like it had before. What was the whole point of this? Allie was gone. It was all for nothing.

He realized he couldn't even remember when he'd last thought about Richard and Nicole. Or the anticipated thrill of building up a new business out of the ashes. He didn't miss his old life in L.A. a single bit.

He didn't even care about getting back into business; it was just a means to an end. An end that no longer existed.

What was he going to do now?

Thirty

J
ACKSON DROPPED THEIR TWO CARRY-ON
bags beside some spare armchairs in the airport lounge. The lone perk of traveling with someone who had a seat at the front of the plane while he had seat 56J to look forward to. Maybe thirteen hours with his knees up to his nose would distract him from the feeling of his heart being ripped out of his chest and fed through a shredder.

Slumping in his seat, he tried to untangle his thoughts. Three weeks ago he'd been in this very airport, willing to go to almost any lengths to convince Louis to fund his next venture. Now, he wasn't sure he wanted it.

The only thing monopolizing his thoughts—his every breath—was that he'd somehow managed to fall for a married woman. And he had no idea how he was going to get over her.

He looked up to see his uncle beside him, a cup of coffee and a cookie balanced in his hand. “Let me get that for you.”
He took the cup and saucer and placed them down on the table between their seats.

“Thanks.” His uncle lowered himself into the opposite armchair, propping his cane up against the arm. The man was incapable of masking the smile that kept taking over his face. Jackson was guessing it had everything to do with the sneaky kiss he'd caught the guy planting on Mavis before they left their hotel in Queenstown. The tour had produced a full-blown octogenarian romance. Who would've guessed that was in the cards three weeks ago?

“You okay?” Even though he tried to arrange his face into something bordering on serious, his great-uncle's lips twitched.

Jackson sighed. He needed to tell his uncle the truth and let the chips fall where they may. He didn't even know what Louis had decided, but he didn't want it on his conscience that he'd initially taken this trip under false pretenses. “I need to tell you something.”

“Shoot.”

“I haven't been honest with you.”

His uncle leaned back against the plush leather and steepled his hands. “I'm listening.”

“I'm not a Tolkien fan. I never have been. Before the flight over here, I'd only seen one of the movies. I haven't read any of his books. I don't know an orc from another bad guy. They all pretty much look the same.”

His uncle didn't even blink. “I know. I've known all along.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I was pretty sure before we even left, but I was certain in Wellington when I threw you for a loop with Gollum.”

“I don't understand.”

“I probably owe you an apology. The truth is, I didn't even really need an assistant. But I'd been asking the Lord for a chance to spend some time with family, and then you showed up. I figured it might be a bit weird, a great-uncle you didn't know from Adam asking you to go on vacation with him, and my assistant did happen to quit, though he wasn't coming on this trip. It was the best I could think of, so I went with it.”

Jackson tried to think of something to say, but nothing came.

Louis picked up his cookie, broke it in half, and put one piece back on his saucer. “I did think about putting you out of your misery a few times, but it was too much fun watching you try and maintain the facade.”

Jackson's mind finally started processing the information, his mouth working again. “I don't understand.”

“I told you this was all about your character. You not being a Tolkien fan was even better as far as I was concerned. I figured plenty of opportunities for you to show your true character would present themselves.”

Jackson rubbed his forehead. “Like how?”

“You told George to redistribute your share of the proceeds to other investors. That shows integrity.”

Jackson's mouth almost hit the floor. “How did you know that?”

His uncle took a bite of his cookie, chewed a couple of times. “I'm a very well-connected man. You were prepared to put Allie's safety over completing the wilderness challenge. That shows you don't get so set on the goal you lose sight of what's really important. And you just told me the truth when
you didn't know if it would affect my decision to invest in you. That makes you a man of principle.”

Jackson shrugged. “But does it? The main reason I wanted the money was to help my parents out with the farm, but my mom's sick and they've sold it.”

“I know.”

Was there anything he didn't know?

Louis tipped some sugar into his coffee and gave it a stir. “I bought it.”

Jackson stared at him. “You bought our farm.”

Louis gave a slow nod. “It's been in your family for five generations. Couldn't let it go to any Joe off the street. Especially with the market at the moment—they wouldn't have been able to get close to what it's worth.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

His uncle shrugged. “Honestly, I hadn't really thought much about it. That's the joy of getting to be this old and having as much money as I do. Sometimes you get to do something because you want to and think about how it will work later. I'll probably hire in a manager to run it in the short term and keep on whoever your parents had as help and go from there. I've asked my guy on the ground to ask your father for any recommendations.”

“Okay.” He didn't know what else to say. It was all too much.

“I'm sorry about your mom, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that what's been hanging over you the last few days, her diagnosis?”

“Yes. No. That was part of it.”

“And the other part?”

“Allie's married.”

Louis picked up his cup. “Actually, she's not.”

Jackson stared at his uncle, barely able to hear above the sound of his own pulse drumming in his ears. This conversation had just gone from the surreal to the impossible. He was tempted to slap himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. “But I met her husband. She told me herself.”

Louis took a sip of his coffee, acting like he hadn't dropped the verbal equivalent of the bomb that leveled Hiroshima. “You may have met Derek, but he's not her husband. The court found in her favor and annulled the marriage. He's still married to the girl he shacked up with in Vegas in a haze of bourbon and stupidity.”

Jackson's body thrummed with pent-up incredulity. Was this how someone felt before they spontaneously combusted? “But he told her the court had ruled against her and upheld their marriage.”

“Yup, he's a slippery character. Never underestimate the lows to which desperate people will stoop. His visa is due for renewal and I understand immigration have been asking a few pointed questions about his relationship status. Plus he's about as broke as you are. Not to mention, he has a few not-so-nice friends back in the UK who still hold a few grudges about some debts he took a while to pay.”

Jackson was on his feet. “I need to go find her. Tell her.”

“Jackson.” His uncle leaned forward, laid a hand on his arm. “She's a smart girl. She'll figure it out. God has a way of making sure the truth always come to light.”

“But—” Jackson couldn't say it. The thought of her around
that sleazeball, thinking she was married to him, made him want to put his fist through a wall.

It's okay. I've got it.
The words came out of nowhere, wrapping around his fledgling faith. The peace that encompassed him made no sense, but nothing did right now.

He forced himself to sit back down, but he couldn't stop one leg from bouncing like it was on a pogo stick.

“So here's what we're going to do.” His uncle pulled something out of his inner coat pocket and opened it. A checkbook.

He started scribbling. “This”—he held up a check for two hundred grand—“should be enough to get the Mortans, Slatts, and Wades back up to about two-thirds of what they invested in your company. But I'm giving it to you on one condition—that after this, you're done. You consider their debts repaid.”

Jackson stared at the seven loopy zeroes on the rectangular piece of paper.

“But it was their college and retirement funds. They need all of it back.”

“It was, which they
chose
to invest. I'm sure you were a great salesman, don't get me wrong. But you didn't cheat them out of it, you didn't con them out of it, you didn't take advantage of them. They chose to give you that money. And they knew there would be an element of risk. I'm sure they are nice people, but they also got greedy and shouldn't have invested what they couldn't afford to lose.” His uncle placed the piece of paper between them. “Agreed?”

Jackson picked up the check. Stared at it. He couldn't guarantee he'd ever be able to match it, let alone give them more,
especially now that he had more important matters to consider. “Agreed.”

His uncle tapped his pen on his checkbook. “Here's the deal, Jackson. I don't know anything about apps, but you passed all the character requirements I have, so I'm happy to keep my end of the deal and invest in your next venture. But first, I have just one question for you.”

“Okay.”

“Is this what you really want to do?”

Jackson studied the glass top of the coffee table trying to really think over the commotion going on in his heart and head.

Was this what he really wanted to do? There was no looming foreclosure on the farm for him to worry about. The investors he cared about were getting most of their money back. He had nothing holding him to L.A. All of his worldly belongings he could pack into a couple of suitcases and a few boxes. Did he really want to start a business again from scratch right now? He knew what it felt like to have money; it hadn't made him happy. He'd found what made him happy. And she couldn't be bought.

He shook his head. “No. I don't think it is.” As he said the words aloud, he knew they were true. He didn't care about getting revenge on Richard and Nicole or rubbing their faces in his next success. He couldn't care less if he never owned a nice condo or drove a flashy sports car again.

“Do you know what you want?”

“Allie.” She wasn't married. He was still having trouble processing the concept. He wasn't convinced he shouldn't walk out of this airport and find her right now and tell her. It would
be a lot easier if he hadn't deleted her number off his phone in a fit of fury.

His uncle smiled. “Well, I can't help you with that one, son. Want my advice though?”

“Sure.” Why not? The man clearly knew everything.

“Once she finds out about Derek, she's going to need a bit of time to find her footing again and work things out for herself. Rushing in there like a knight on a charger will probably not go so well. So be patient. Trust God. If it's meant to be, He'll give you a good kick when it's time to make a move.”

Jackson blew out a breath. He wasn't good at being patient. If he had a clue where she was, he probably wouldn't still be sitting here. “I'll try. But what . . .” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The horrible possibilities were too numerous to contemplate.

“Don't worry. I'm keeping an eye on it. Allie's already been burned once, so she has her eyes wide open. If need be, I've got people on my payroll who can give things a little hurry along so she finds out sooner rather than later.”

Jackson stared at the old guy, with his innocent face and twinkling eyes. Was he actually Gandalf? It was either that or else he was really high up in the mafia with his “people” and information flows.

He decided it was better not to ask. Just in case “a little hurry along”
involved Derek, concrete boots, and some deep water, all of which sounded like an excellent idea right now. “Why do you care so much about us?”

His uncle leaned back in his seat. “Jackson, I would do it even if you hadn't gone and fallen for her. I like Allison a lot. Which makes it important to me that she finds out the truth.
And, like I've said before, when you're an old man with a lot of money, one of life's luxuries is that you can indulge whims that might not make a lot of sense.” His uncle picked up his cup and took a sip of his coffee. “What about everything else? Do you know what you want to do next with your life? Besides spend it with a certain redhead?”

Jackson contemplated for a second the idea that had been knocking about for months, but that he'd written off as being impossible. But since he'd heard about his parents selling the farm, it had gotten louder, more insistent. “Yes, I think I do.”