Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One (7 page)

Sometimes
I thought Merryton was suffocating for him. He grew up in Phoenix and had lived
in bigger cities his whole life until we married. He didn’t like big cities
because of the people and attractions, but you couldn’t hide at all in
Merryton. He never complained, but I did wonder. I also wondered if I should
offer to move, but his business did well and so did mine. I didn’t know if I
wanted to start over at our age, though we were still relatively young. But
maybe it would be better to go somewhere else, to a place where there weren’t
reminders around every corner about what we had lost.

I
just didn’t know. And that was the thought I drifted off to sleep with.

I
was woken up well before sunrise by the lightest of touches. Blake sat close to
me on the bed. I could barely make him out when I opened my eyes, but there he sat,
looking at me tenderly.

“I
wanted to say goodbye before I left for the airport.”

I
sat up some and ran my fingers through my mess of hair. “Do you want me to
drive you?”

“No.
I’m leaving from Denver International. I planned on leaving my truck there.
I’ll be back early tomorrow.”

I
nodded my head in acknowledgement. That made sense. I wasn’t sure our small
municipal airport flew to Salt Lake City, unless he got something private.

“Jessica,
this doesn’t change how I feel about you. You know that, right?”

I
stayed silent. I had wondered if he thought about trading me in for a working
version—someone that could give him lots of Madelines, someone that he knew
loved him and someone that wasn’t me.

His
eyes narrowed in concern when I didn’t respond other than to pull up the sheet
like that would somehow comfort me or protect me. Protect me from what, I
didn’t know.

“I
love you. This is going to be okay.” He kept saying that phrase like saying it
would make it come true.

“I
want to believe you.”

He
drew me into him and I let him. For a moment I felt safe and warm.

“I
promise,” he whispered in my ear before kissing my head and letting me go.

I
watched him walk toward the door. There he stopped. “I’ll call you when I get
there.”

I
nodded and he turned to leave. “Blake,” I called out.

He
immediately turned my way.

“Do
you ever think about moving?”

“I
want to be wherever you are.”

“How
do you feel about Blake meeting his daughter?” my mom asked as we prepared
Sunday dinner together.

“That’s
a loaded question if I ever heard one.”

My
mom looked up from the roast beef she was slicing and grinned.

I
finished seasoning the mashed potatoes. I was in need of some serious comfort
food. My mother was a saint. “I suppose I’m happy for him. Does that make any
sense? But on the other hand I feel like I want to strangle him. Like he
betrayed me somehow.”

“You
can’t make this all about you.”

“Yes,
Mother, I know.”

She
set down the carving knife and gave me her I’m-still-your-mother look. “I’m on
your side.”

“I
know that, too,” I replied with less attitude.

“When
are you going to meet her?”

“Blake
mentioned something about us planning a trip there next month.”

“You
two are working it out then?” My mom asked relieved.

“We’re
trying, but it’s like walking on eggs.”

“Don’t
you mean egg shells?”

“No,
I mean eggs. We are easy to break and it’s messy.”

My
mom laughed. “Well at least you’re keeping a sense of humor about it.”

“Not
really.”

My
mom scooted closer to me and wrapped her arms around me. “I’m proud of you,
Jessie Belle.”

“I
don’t know why.”

“Honey,
look around you. The café is doing better than ever because of you, you’ve been
to the brink and back but you’re still trying, and the teenagers at church
worship the ground you walk on.”

“That’s
the cinnamon rolls.”

“And
who gets up early every Sunday morning to make those?”

I
smiled in response.

“You
are an amazing woman. You have so much to give and you do so even when you feel
like you have nothing to offer. I know this new twist in the plot is hard for
you, but don’t let the act of how Madeline got here get in the way of loving
her. From the sound of it, she needs a woman like you in her life. And so does
Blake.”

“So
how often have you been talking to my husband?”

She
squeezed me tighter. “As much as he needs it.”

I
arched my eyebrow at her, but she didn’t elaborate. That was okay. I was glad
Blake felt like he could talk to my mom. She probably forced him into it at
first, but he wouldn’t have talked at all unless he really wanted to. Blake was
not one to be pushed into anything.

I
thought about what my mom had said as I set the table. Could I love Madeline?
Would she like me? Would I like her? What was she like? I prayed she wasn’t
like her mom—I’d have to hope she got more of Blake’s genes.

I
also wondered how Blake’s meeting with her was going. He sounded nervous when
he called me this morning from the Salt Lake City airport. I probably should
have been more supportive on the phone. I wasn’t trying to be unsupportive—I
was only trying to mask the hurt and confusion.
How did this become my life?
I thought.

My
parents and I sat down together at the table on the patio. I still looked to my
right at the empty chair next to me. Blake hadn’t come to Sunday dinner in
forever. I knew he wasn’t coming tonight, but for the first time in a long
time, I missed him. I took it as a good sign.

My
dad said grace and served my mom and then me. I always thought it was such a
sweet gesture. It was no wonder I grew up with fairytale ideals about what love
and marriage were supposed to be like. According to my mom, my dad had been a
real cad at the beginning of their relationship, but she set him straight. I
couldn’t believe it because my whole life he had worshipped the ground my
mother walked on.

We
conversed about normal things like the pastor’s sermon and the weather. Then,
out of the blue, my dad says, “You better make sure that daughter of his has
all of her shots.”

I
coughed on the water I had just swallowed. “Dad, she’s not a puppy. What made
you say that?”

“I
was reading an article today in
The New England Journal of Medicine
about how many people today are choosing not to vaccinate their children. It
can be dangerous, you know.”

“Don’t
worry, I’m sure Blake will make sure she’s taken care of.”

“What
does he know about taking care of a teen girl?”

“I
don’t know, but I suppose he’ll learn.”

“Don’t
you mean both of you?” my mother chided.

I
nodded hesitantly.

“I
don’t like this situation one bit,” my dad growled.

“Join
the club, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Well
I, for one, think it’s exciting. We get to be grandparents.” My mother beamed.

Both
my dad and I looked at her like she was a little off.

She
gave us such a look back that neither of us argued with her.

“Like
it or not, Madeline is your stepdaughter, which makes me a grandma.”

I
knew she had been dying to be called that. Once we were past the first
trimester of Carter’s pregnancy, she began calling herself The Grandmother. It
reminded me we all had loss to bear.

I
smiled at my mother. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Hmm
…” was all my dad could add.

I
knew he wasn’t happy, but my mom was, so that’s all that mattered in his book.

After
dinner my mom and I worked on my homemade s’more recipe. The texture was still
a tad off for me. I needed the cookie to be a little crisper, like an actual
graham cracker. My mom suggested adding more white sugar in place of some of
the brown sugar. She was the master, and her advice produced the perfect
cookie. I didn’t need to go to school to learn how to bake; my mother was the
best teacher around. School helped me with technique and running a business,
but my mom would always be my number one professor.

“I
love your ideas for the new fall lineup,” my mom said proudly as we cleaned up.

“Thanks.
That reminds me. Do you mind if I use your cheesecake recipe, but tweak it a
little bit?”

“Tweak
away,” she said as she closed the dishwasher and pressed start.

I
hugged her tight. “Thanks, Mom. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She
squeezed my cheeks. “You’re so cute.”

I
rolled my eyes. “I’m going home now.”

“Remember
to stay there,” she called out to me as I went looking for my dad. “Oh, and I
love you.”

“Love
you too, Mom,” I called back.

My
dad was in his office, studying.

I
looked around at all of his degrees, awards, and licenses that hung on the
wall. He had been the chief of staff at Merryton General Hospital for years
before he retired. It was hard for him to give all of that up, but my mom was
ready to be done with the crazy doctor hours. There were also several family
pictures displayed, mostly from when I was growing up - pictures from proms,
graduations, and beach vacations. I looked at the girl in those photos and saw
someone who knew she could take on the world. What I wouldn’t give to feel that
way again.

My
dad looked up from his computer and took off his glasses. “How’s my Belle
doing?”

I
walked over to him and kissed the top of his head. “I’m doing okay. I came to
say goodbye.”

He
pulled a nearby chair over. “Sit with me for a moment.”

I
would never refuse him.

My
dad had this way of looking at me that made me feel protected and loved. He
touched my cheek softly. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Ready
for what?”

“You
realize how serious stage four is of any cancer?”

I
nodded my head.

“And
melanoma is a tricky beast. It is not as well-known as some of the other
cancers out there, which means treatments don’t always produce desired
results.”

“So
… what does this have to do with me?”

“Honey,
you need to ask yourself whether or not you’re ready to raise this girl.”

“Dad,
you know as well as I do that people with cancer, even in advanced stages, can
live for years. And Madeline will be eighteen in five years or so.”

“True,
but she may still become your full-time responsibility.”

I
sighed and looked up toward the ceiling. “I know. I’m trying to come to terms
with it.”

“If
you want to leave Blake, you know I would support you,” he said quietly enough to
not be overheard by my mom, who would have been very unhappy to hear him say
it.

I
looked at him sternly. “Dad, I need you to support me in staying.”

“Why?
You’ve been so unhappy.”

“Not
because of him necessarily, and it takes two to tango. I get that Blake maybe
isn’t the easiest person to get to know or get along with, but I’ve never
understood your aversion to him.”

He
thought for a moment. “I wanted so much more for you.”

“What
more could I need?”
Besides a baby, but Blake and I had tried our hardest
there.
“I mean really, Dad. I live in a beautiful home. I run a successful
business.”

“But
do you have love?”

“Blake
loves me. He just shows it differently than most people,” I said defensively.

“And
how do you feel about him?”

“Like
I want to kill him half the time.” I smiled.

He
frowned.

“Dad,
we’re working on it.”

He
reached up and touched my cheek. “Just make sure he treats you the way you
deserve.”

“I
will. And will you please try with Blake? I can only imagine the firestorm the
news of Madeline is going to cause in this town. We are both going to need your
support.”

His
brows scrunched together.

“Dad.”

“Anything
for you, my Belle.”

I
stood up and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Dad. Thanks for always watching out
for me.”

The
house felt lonely when I walked in.
Maybe we should get a dog
, I thought,
like
a big fluffy one that would jump up on you when you walked in,
letting you know how much he loved and missed you
. It was weird, but Blake
and I had never discussed our preferences about having a pet. If I had to guess
I would say he wasn’t a pet guy. I didn’t have one growing up, but I thought it
might be nice.

I
turned on all the main lights in the house for company and then settled in for
some Mark Harmon. He reminded me of Blake—he hardly ever spoke in his role as
Jethro Gibbs. I suddenly realized I had this strange attraction to strong,
silent men. I wondered if that was because my first boyfriend, Landon, was such
a pest. He hung all over me and called all the time. At first I thought it was
cute, but after a while it grated on me. I broke up with him the night of our
senior prom. The timing wasn’t nice, but neither was him always trying to cross
the line. If only my dad knew, then he probably wouldn’t be so keen on Landon
Riley. I never said anything because our parents were friends, and besides, I
took care of him quite nicely on my own. He’s fathered a child, so at least I
know I didn’t do any permanent damage.

Oddly
enough, that still wasn’t a complete turnoff for him. Every summer we came home
from college he still tried to worm his way back into my life, to no avail. He
was married now to Veronica, or as Cheyenne likes to call her...well, never
mind, I didn’t want to think about what Cheyenne calls her. Let’s just say that
she and Landon suited each other well. They are both about as fake as
self-tanning spray lotion. Now that he’s been elected mayor they love to walk
around like they’re the president and first lady. She no longer refers to
Landon as her husband, now it’s “mayor.” Then she parades her sweet little boy,
Landon Jr., around like he’s some show pony. Poor kid was always dressed like
he was going to church, and if he stepped even a little toe out of line, she
flipped. He was only five years old, but she wanted him to behave as if he were
thirty-five.

But
what did I know? Childless woman that I was.

As
I ogled Mark Harmon on
NCIS
, I wondered how the father-daughter reunion
was going in Utah. I still couldn’t believe Blake was a dad. So many emotions
surrounded that thought, including everything from anger to inadequacy. It felt
like all I had done for the last decade was try to make us parents, and I had
nothing to show for it except a broken marriage. And now all of sudden one of
us has what the other could never obtain.

I
tried my best not to make it about me. My mother was right. It wasn’t all about
me. Maybe that was the problem—it had nothing to do with me. Blake was a dad
and it had nothing to do with me.

Blake’s
timing for calling wasn’t good, but I answered anyway.