Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One (34 page)
Read Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One Online
Authors: Jennifer Peel
He
stood there looking at me, unsure of how to proceed. He looked uncomfortable as
he ran his fingers through his curtained hair that parted down the middle. He’d
had the same hairstyle for over twenty years. It was so odd to think I had
known him that long, although much of it was spent apart.
“I
would really like to stay and help. And I wanted the girls to get to know each
other,” he said firmly.
That
was the Easton I knew—confident and self-assured.
I
shook my head at him. “I don’t … I’m not sure …” Why couldn’t I just tell him
to hit the road? I didn’t want or need his help. “I don’t think it’s a good
idea,” I managed.
“We
need to get used to being around each other and in each other’s lives again,”
he countered.
“I
suppose, but I think baby steps would be more appropriate to start with, don’t
you?”
“Taylor,
please. I need your help here.”
“What
do you mean you need my help? When you called me, you said you wanted Ashley’s
help for the summer.”
He
walked toward me and stood across the island from me. “I need your help getting
reacquainted with our daughter, and in the process I was kind of hoping you
could help with Emmy, too. She needs a woman like you in her life,” he said
lowly.
I
leaned more toward him so I would not be overheard. It was hard because I
wanted to raise my voice after his request, but I refrained. “You have a lot of
nerve asking me to help you with your daughter that you fathered with the woman
you left me for. The same woman, I might add, that kept you from my daughter.”
He
leaned in now, too. “If my memory serves me correctly, I’m not the one who
left.”
“Since
your memory is so good, then you’ll remember why I did.”
His
demeanor softened. “Taylor, please, I don’t want to argue with you.”
I
didn’t want to either, but we seemed to gravitate toward it whenever we were
around each other in private, or when we conversed on the phone. It was
probably a good thing we rarely had contact over the last fourteen years. And
of course he didn’t want to argue. How do you defend cheating on your wife? And
the timing of it all? My mother had barely died and we had just gone through a
major move. I needed him more than ever, but I always seemed to come in last,
and then there was Kathryn. He denied the affair over and over again, but the
signs were all there, so I left for the only support system I had remaining.
“You’ve
been such a great mother to Ashley. And Emmy, well … let’s just say she wasn’t
as lucky as her sister.”
I
rubbed my temples, I couldn’t believe I had only lived here less than a day and
I was already having awkward conversations with my ex-husband. I already felt
like I had made the second biggest mistake in my life. The first biggest was
agreeing the first time, when we were married, to move back here. It wasn’t the
first time over the years he’s told me what a great mom he thought I was, but
honestly I felt it was undeserved. Ashley was naturally a great kid. I don’t
know that I did anything to contribute to that other than loving her to pieces.
And I felt bad for Emmy, I did, but I wasn’t sure I should be the one to help
him with her. I could only imagine what her mother’s thoughts were on the
subject.
I
was about to tell Easton that they should probably leave when Ashley and Emmy
walked in. A rush of pride swept over me as I looked at my girl holding her
sister’s hand. She was the most wonderful creature on this earth.
“Momma,
I told Emmy they could stay for lunch.”
Of
course she had. I looked at Easton and he looked pleased with both the
invitation and at his daughters being together. Emmy still looked timid. It
pulled a little at my heart, but I thought maybe she would warm up once she got
to know both of us, or at least Ashley. I was going to try and stay completely
uninvolved.
“Do
you want me to order takeout?” Easton offered, but then he grinned at me. “Or
do you still not do takeout?”
It’s
not that I never ate out or ordered food, but I was very particular. It was
kind of my job to be. People paid me to make their lives better and healthier
through nutrition plans. I have a degree and a plaque and everything that says
so. I’m what they called a clinical nutritionist. And soon enough that degree
plaque would be hanging up in my new office at Merryton General.
“I’ll
make something,” I grumbled.
It
was a great time to have company over for lunch—I had no utensils, or plates,
or any of the other things I needed to entertain unpacked—but what the heck? It
was only my ex-husband. It was a good thing I’d had the foresight to add paper
products and plastic utensils to the grocery list I had sent with Ashley.
I
let the three of them get to know one another out back while I made lunch.
Easton offered to help, but I declined again. I don’t know why he didn’t get
the hint that I didn’t want or need his help. I hadn’t in fourteen years. I had
learned not to depend on him. I had learned it kept me from a lot of
disappointment. But again, I wasn’t thinking about it.
I
prepared whole-wheat pitas stuffed with turkey, lettuce, and tomato, along with
an assortment of berries and chopped vegetables on the side. I arranged a plate
for everyone and got out some bottles of water and called it good. It wasn’t
fancy, but it was nutritionally balanced. I walked over to the back door and
called out that lunch was ready. They were all sitting and talking on a blanket
in the backyard. That would be where we would have to eat lunch too, either there
or the hardwood floor in the house. The movers still hadn’t shown up.
Easton
was the only one to come in. He surveyed the plates before he picked one up.
“Is
something wrong?” I asked.
He
looked over to me. “No, this looks great. I’m just worried Emmy won’t like it.
She’s not really used to this kind of food.”
“What’s
‘this’ kind of food?”
“You
know … the healthy kind,” he said sheepishly.
“Aren’t
you a doctor and wasn’t your wife a nurse?”
“We
didn’t do a lot of home-cooked meals, okay?”
I
had apparently hit a nerve. I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, maybe she’ll
surprise you. But if she doesn’t like it, I’ll come up with something she
does,” I offered. I don’t know why I offered. It wasn’t my fault he fed his kid
crap. But there was something about Emmy that pulled on my heartstrings.
“Thanks,”
he said politely.
He
reached for two plates and I grabbed the other two and followed him outside. I
couldn’t believe I was having a picnic with my ex-husband and his daughter. I didn’t
sign up for this when I read the brochure about what to expect when living near
your ex.
Emmy
looked warily at the food and at me.
I
smiled warmly at her. “Try it and if you don’t like it, I’ll make you something
else. Okay?” I said it as kindly as I could, so she would know I was sincere
and it was okay if she didn’t like it.
She
nodded her head yes, but she didn’t look hopeful at all.
“One
thing you need to know about my momma, Emmy, is she’s a total health nut, but
she can make anything taste good.”
“Thanks
for that, Ash.”
Easton
laughed.
Ashley
laughed at me too, but she turned toward her sister and grabbed her pita and
took out the tomato and handed it back to Emmy without the offending fruit.
“Here, try this,” she said.
Emmy
cautiously took a very small bite. I felt bad that we were all watching her and
waiting for her reaction. She didn’t gag or spit it out, so I took it as a good
sign. I dug into my own food because I was seriously hungry and I needed
something to do other than stare at my ex, who was staring at me.
I
pretty much stayed silent during the meal. I let Ashley and Easton dictate the
conversation and catch up. I also observed Emmy. I came to the conclusion her
issue with “healthy” food seemed to be partially due to texture. I supposed I
could give Easton some suggestions on how to help with that and how to
introduce new foods to her.
All
I knew was I was thrilled when the movers showed up. I needed the distraction.
My ex-husband, unfortunately, thought he needed to stay and help. I had to say
I was surprised he took a whole Thursday off to help; when we were married he
wouldn’t have considered it. But now it was really annoying. And it was
annoying when the movers assumed he was my husband. I quickly set them
straight. And it was annoying when he insisted on helping me set up our beds
and move the furniture to where I wanted it to be placed. And it was really
annoying when he decided to go and get dinner for everyone and then stayed and
ate with us, again.
My
saving grace was Emmy; she fell asleep on my couch around nine and Easton
finally decided it was time to go home.
“Can
I talk to you privately?” he asked before they left.
I
only agreed because I wanted him to leave.
We
walked out to the front porch. I had forgotten that it gets cool at night in
June. Back home it would still be steamy. I wrapped my arms around myself.
“Do
you want me to get you a jacket?” Easton asked kindly.
“No,”
I responded, probably too shortly. In my defense, it had been a long day and I
was ready for him to leave.
He
responded by smiling. “I guess offering you my arm would probably be out of the
question then.”
I
sighed and tiredly smiled. I couldn’t help it. “So, what did you need to speak
to me about?”
“Have
you seen your father yet?” he asked quietly.
I
shook my head no. I had been trying to forget about the other reason I agreed
to come home, the other ghost that had haunted me my whole life. Frank Roberts
was the saddest excuse for a father that there ever was, but he was dying.
Easton told me the night he called and asked if Ashley could come and spend the
summer with him. I refused at first. I only have two summers left with her
before she leaves for college and I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing
one of them. That’s when he suggested I come, too. He told me the hospital was
in need of a good clinical nutritionist and I should consider applying and
moving back. I practically laughed at the suggestion. I hated this place and I
swore I would never come back. But then … but then he told me Frank had been to
see him, and Easton broke about a hundred privacy laws by telling me Frank was
in stage four cirrhosis and gave him less than a year to live. Easton told me
if I was ever going to forgive Frank and move on, this would be my last chance.
And, of course, Ashley thought we should.
Easton
looked at me with concern in his brown eyes. He reached out and touched my cold
arm. “I’ll go with you if you would like.”
I
again shook my head no. I wasn’t going to depend on Easton for anything.
He
dropped his hand and a look of disappointment washed over his face. “Okay, but
I want to warn you. He looks terrible. And … I told him you were moving back.”
“Of
course you did.”
“I’m
sorry, Taylor, but I thought he deserved to know.”
“Frank
doesn’t deserve to know anything about me.”
“People
change, Taylor.”
I
looked up at him with tears in my eyes. “Yeah, I know, and it’s not always for
the better.”
About the Author
Jennifer Peel is the mother of three amazing kiddos. Wife to her
one and only for the past twenty-one years. Lover of late night talks, beach
vacations, the mountains, pink bubble gum ice cream, tours of model homes, and
southern living. She can frequently be found with her laptop on, fingers typing
away, indulging in chocolate milk, and writing out the stories that are
constantly swirling through her head.
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