Paper Hearts (9 page)

Abigail pulled up to her mother’s house, dinner rolls in hand, and took a breath before going inside.

“God, I need your help if I’m going to get out of here alive,” she said under her breath, feeling a whole lot like Daniel must’ve right before they threw him in the lions’ den.

These family dinners never went according to Teensy’s plan. And, boy, did she always have a plan. She had a knack for setting herself up for disappointment.

Abigail let herself in the side door of her mother’s home and inhaled the smell of pot roast. At least she’d be well fed.

Teensy’s house was cozy. Small since it was just her, but homey in spite of, well, Teensy. Abigail hadn’t spent much time there, as her mother had moved in after Abigail had her own place. It was as if she’d been waiting since the day Daddy left to get out of the home they shared, and finally, after her children were grown, she had permission to make the change. She’d been so heartbroken by his betrayal and embarrassed given the family’s love legacy. A part of her had never recovered.

Maybe Abigail and her mother did have something in common after all.

At least in her mom’s new house, she didn’t have images of her father. So many moments she’d rather forget, like the night he packed a small suitcase and walked out the door.

Her mom had collapsed in a heap in the entryway then, sobs overtaking her body while Abigail, who was barely thirteen, took her siblings into her room, guarding them from the vision of their mother falling apart.

After Betsy and Justin had gone to bed, Abigail peeked in on
her mother and saw, for the first time, how a broken heart could steal someone’s spirit. It was as if the life had been drained from her mother’s face. Like someone reached inside her and tore her soul clean away.

Despite her father’s shortcomings, though, Abigail knew he had been a good dad to them while they were all together. Sometimes she missed him so much, she awoke in the middle of the night with an aching pain down in the recesses of her soul.

Everyone said time would heal that. So far it hadn’t. Even now, all these years later, the memory of that night
 
—the night everything changed
 
—made her fingers tingle. The Pressman family spent years not knowing why their father didn’t want them anymore. And even though he visited his children now and then, it was never the same. His choice changed everything. Did he know what he’d put them through?

She still regretted never asking him that question.

She said another prayer, silent this time, as she did whenever her father came to mind.
I forgive him,
she prayed, though the words felt anything but true. How could she love someone so much and be so angry with him at the same time?

She stood in the kitchen and inhaled deeply, listening to the chatter from the other room
 
—Teensy, Betsy, and a man whose voice she didn’t recognize. Justin had texted her from Belize or some other tiny, sunny country just yesterday, so it wasn’t him. She fought the jealousy that crept in when she thought about her brother and the haphazard backpacking trip he was taking with three old college buddies who also didn’t realize they were on the back half of their twenties.

She edged toward the living room. When she stepped on a creaky floorboard, she cringed, knowing what would come next.

Teensy flew into the kitchen. If there’d been a baseball bat handy, the woman might’ve clocked Abigail on the head.

Teensy gasped. “Abigail! What are you doing sneaking around like a burglar?”

“I wasn’t sneaking, Mother. I was just . . . preparing myself.”

Teensy frowned. “For what?”

“Never mind. Is Betsy here?” She’d barely gotten the words out when her sister squealed her way into the room. A vision in a white sundress with a dainty cardigan, Betsy still looked like a college sorority girl even though she’d graduated college three years prior. Full blonde curls cascaded down her back, and her big brown eyes were bright and sparkly, like the eyes of a person who had no idea every one of her dreams wouldn’t come true.

Abigail had always been the more realistic of the two. She shoved aside her pessimism as her sister pulled her into a hug. Abigail reminded herself not to tense up at her touch.
She’s your sister.

Her younger, bubblier, always-had-to-be-the-center-of-attention sister.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. But Abigail’s shyness certainly stood out when she was in Betsy’s shadow. People always gravitated to the youngest Pressman.

They said Betsy was warm and inviting. Abigail
 
—difficult to know. She supposed it was true, but could she help it if she preferred not to rush into relationships that could eventually disappoint her?

“Oh, Abigail, you look like you need a spa day,” Betsy said, stepping back and studying her.

“I think so too,” their mother said. “I have a cream for those dark circles under your eyes.”

Betsy’s laugh could only be described as buoyant as she abruptly changed the subject. “I have a surprise.”

Teensy let out a squeak, and within seconds, the two of them had practically swallowed Abigail, leaning close, voices lowered as if secrets were the order of the day.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Betsy said as their mother linked her arm through Abigail’s, two Pressmans ganging up on a third.

“She’s met someone,” Teensy hissed.

Abigail’s tongue went numb. “Oh, really?”

Betsy had always had boyfriends
 
—boys loved having Betsy on their arm
 
—but she’d never been serious about any of them and she’d rarely brought them home. It was the only thing she and Abigail had in common these days, their unified front against their mother.

I don’t need a man to be happy.

Before she could get control of her spiraling thoughts, a man appeared in the kitchen doorway. A man who looked like a walking cliché
 
—six feet tall, dark, and handsome.

Betsy flashed her left hand in Abigail’s face. “We’re engaged!”

Shrill gasps and sighs filled the kitchen, reminding Abigail of everything she’d hated about junior high school. At that age, girls became giddy over boys, and in this town, it seemed to continue well into adulthood. No wonder Abigail was still single. She’d never been that way.

“Abigail,” Betsy said, taking her hand, “this is Romano.” Abigail couldn’t be sure, but she thought Betsy might’ve slipped into an Italian accent as she said his name. Betsy led her over to the doorway, in front of the hulking giant who took up the space of two normal-size people. “He’s Italian.”

Teensy’s face resembled something straight out of a classic romance movie. Abigail tried not to look disgusted.

“We met through my friend Joy. She thought we’d hit it off.” Betsy giggled. “She was right.”

Romano took Abigail’s hand, drew it to his lips, and kissed it, all while maintaining unnerving eye contact with her. “So nice to meet you,” he murmured.

Betsy leaned in. “Swoony, right?”

“Bets,” Abigail said, pulling her hand away and wiping it on her jeans. “Can I talk to you in the other room?”

Her sister and the Italian exchanged some sort of knowing glance, the kind of silent communication Abigail would never understand
 
—at least never again. She shook off thoughts of Jeremy.

She pulled Betsy into the den, the room farthest away from the kitchen, and closed the door. “What has gotten into you?”

Betsy’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“Who
are
you out there? You’re practically drooling. Over a guy. You’re like one of those sappy girls we used to make fun of.”

Betsy whisked across the room and sat on the ugly floral armchair their mother refused to throw away. “Abigail, I’m in love. I can’t explain it. I guess we were wrong all those years when we were making fun of those sappy girls.” She shrugged. “We just hadn’t experienced it yet.”

A glazed-over look washed across Betsy’s face. Abigail recognized the expression. Hopeless romantic. Head in the clouds. Begging for devastation. “What about Florida?”

“I don’t have time for that now. We’ve still got the whole wedding to plan. Oh, that reminds me. We’re getting married on Valentine’s Day. Will you be my maid of honor?”

“Valentine’s Day? Betsy! Why the rush? How long have you known this guy? And what about all the big dreams you have?”

“Now I have big dreams with Romano. He’s a soccer player. I’m going to travel with his team. See the world.”

Abigail could not believe what she was hearing. Her sister was about to make the biggest mistake of her life, and she couldn’t even see it because she’d convinced herself this was love. Had she learned nothing from Abigail’s own heartbreak?

Betsy frowned. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

“What look?” How could she tell Betsy what she really thought without destroying their relationship? She didn’t pretend very well.

“That disapproving-big-sister look.” Betsy stood. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want to hear the cynicism right now, Abigail. Someday, when you meet the right person, you’ll understand. You’ll turn into one of those girls you’ve always despised. That’s the power of love.” She took Abigail’s hand. “They’re not all like him, you know.”

Abigail ignored this last statement. “None of that will ever happen.”
And I resent your Disney princess tone of voice.

Betsy steeled her jaw. “You’re going to end up alone if you keep this up, Abigail.”

Abigail did a little steeling of her own jaw and squared off with her sister. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are so closed off. You refuse to put yourself out there. You think that you
 
—all by yourself
 
—are more than enough, and you’re not.”

The words burrowed their way into Abigail’s heart, but she quickly recovered. “Don’t act like you’ve got everything all figured out in the love and romance department, Betsy. Not everyone has to rush into marriage to be happy. In fact, lots of people do it and end up divorced a year later.”

“You think we’re going to end up divorced?”

Abigail groaned. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“What I know is that you are too scared to admit that you want someone to love you
 
—and if you keep that up, no one ever will.” Betsy walked out of the den, through the living room, and into the arms of her too-good-looking soon-to-be-husband.

Hot tears stung Abigail’s eyes.

Not because what Betsy had said hurt her feelings but because Abigail feared her sister’s words might actually be true.

Abigail was on the fast track to solitude, but she didn’t see another way to keep from dealing with more disappointment or another broken heart. Betsy simply hadn’t been at this long enough to know that the risk of being let down was very high.
And the only way to protect yourself from that kind of pain was not to let anyone get too close.

Quietly, she let herself out the side door, more aware than ever just how important her business really was.

“Y
OU’RE NOT SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING THIS.”
Kelly walked in the front door of his house and tucked her phone into her purse.

Jacob had been sitting on this offer from Ursula Pembrooke for days, but he couldn’t shake the idea that he’d made a mistake in choosing the Old Town building.

“Shouldn’t we think about it?” He took her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the front door.

“No. After all that hunting, you found the perfect space. It’s unique and unexpected. Why on earth are you letting this Pembrooke woman get to you?” She dropped her purse on his kitchen counter and fished a Diet Coke from his fridge. She cracked it open, took a drink, then eyed him. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

“It’s not Ursula Pembrooke who’s gotten to you, is it?” She set the cold can on the counter with a clang.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jacob pulled out one of the barstools at the island and sat down. “Can we discuss the renovations?”

“It’s the book girl.”

Jacob scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous, Kelly.”

“No, I’m not. That girl has gotten under your skin, and you can’t bear the thought of putting her out.” Kelly moved around the island and faced him. “Jacob, you have to toughen up if you’re going to do this.”

“I’m plenty tough, thanks.” But Kelly knew him too well. He didn’t like the idea of kicking Abigail out
 
—of being the one to swoop in and steal the business she worked so hard for right out from under her.

He’d been so convinced that throwing himself into this project, opening a new practice, was the best idea, but every time he caught Abigail glaring in the general direction of his side of the building, he questioned his resolve.

Kelly stood right in front of him now. “Jacob, I get it. You’re a nice guy. You don’t want to be the reason she has to file bankruptcy.”

Oh, man.
He hadn’t even thought of that.

“Why don’t you let me handle these decisions?” She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him toward her. “That way your kind bedside manner stays intact, but we still end up with what we need for the practice to get off the ground.”

He stiffened at her nearness, but before he could pull away, she took a step back, dropping her hands from his shoulders. “Gwen always said you were the good guy.”

His pulse quickened at the mention of his wife’s name. “I hate to tell you this, Kelly, but where I come from, that’s not something to be ashamed of.”

A smirk played at the corners of her mouth. “Of course not. I’m just not sure it makes you a natural businessperson.”

“I disagree. I appreciate your expertise, but if this is going to be my practice, we’ve got to run it my way. I’m not interested in hurting people.”

Kelly put a hand on her hip. “You know what else Gwen said?” She locked onto his eyes.

Jacob leveled his gaze.

“That you always had to be the hero.”

“Well, we both know how that turned out, don’t we?” Jacob didn’t want to think about Gwen or his failed attempts to be the hero.

“You’re too hard on yourself, Doc,” Kelly said. “All I know is that you don’t have to be book girl’s hero. For the time being, you’re her landlord. Nothing more.” She took a step back, still studying him.

He shifted. She was right. He only needed to be one person’s hero: Junie’s. He glanced at Kelly. “Why are you staring at me?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I just like what I see.” A smile played at her mouth and she tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Kelly, I appreciate everything you’re doing to help me here, but
 
—”

She waved him off. “Oh, Jacob, don’t be so serious. I just like to admire things that look good. That’s all.” She took another drink of her Diet Coke. “Besides, Gwen was like a sister to me.”

He didn’t like talking about Gwen. He didn’t like her talking about Gwen.

“I miss her too, you know.”

He looked at Kelly and for a fleeting moment remembered how Gwen’s death had devastated her. Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t the only one hurting over the loss.

She turned away. “Promise me something.” Kelly reached down and started shuffling through her purse. “No more talk about selling this building. This is the best plan
 
—let’s run with it.”

He stood, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. “It was a serious offer. I thought we should at least consider it. It has nothing to do with Abigail.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Even the way you say her name.”

“That’s her name, Kelly. How do you want me to say it?” He didn’t have time to be psychoanalyzed.

Kelly reached across the island and stilled him with her touch, covering his hand with her own. “You’re doing this for Junie, right?”

Yes. Junie. That’s why he was doing this. He nodded.

“That’s all that matters.” Kelly sounded so matter-of-fact. “I mean, really, who’s more important? Book girl or your daughter?”

Obviously that was a rhetorical question.

He didn’t answer.

Instead he flipped open one of the folders Kelly had set on the counter. “Should we look at these contractor bids?”

Kelly flashed him a smile as if to give her approval. Not that he needed or wanted it. “I’ve made some notes about each of these options.”

Jacob spent the rest of the night listening to Kelly explain the pros and cons of each and every inch of their plans, but he found his mind wandering as it often did when Gwen’s name came up. Here he was, knee-deep in a fresh start, yet still imagining what Gwen would say about this new adventure.

“You get to set your own hours? Maybe now you can spend more time at home. You deserve that, Jacob.”

Gwen had always been disappointed by the long hours he had to work. She understood and never nagged, but he’d left her and Junie alone for too many nights. And too many mornings, she’d woken up to find his side of the bed empty.

He’d been so absent, even when he was present.

Not this time. Junie might’ve lost her mother, but she wasn’t going to lose her father too. He had to make up for the way he’d failed her. This time he’d do things the way he should’ve done them when Gwen was still alive.

As if that could make up for his part in her death.

“Daddy?”

Junie’s voice snapped him back to reality. He’d scheduled the meeting for after her bedtime on purpose, but looking at her now, he felt like he hadn’t really seen her in days. The rides to and from school were hurried, and his daughter rarely spoke.

“Hey, Mouse,” he said, moving toward her. “What are you doing up?”

She stared at the floor.

“Another bad dream?” He kept his voice soft, almost a whisper.

She nodded.

“I’ll take you back.” He scooped her up, wishing his arms were strong enough to protect her from the demons that haunted them both.
God, I can get through this, but Junie? Can you show a little mercy?

Once he’d tucked her back in bed, he sat in silence for a moment.

“Daddy? Will you pray for me?”

His stomach sank at the simple, honest request of a frightened child. He didn’t feel like praying. God could’ve prevented all this pain in the first place, but he hadn’t.

Why should they be on speaking terms now?

“Please?”

Jacob swallowed in spite of his dry mouth. “Sure, Mouse.” He watched as she closed her eyes and folded her hands, placing them just below her chin.

Why was it so hard to find the words for a simple prayer? Had it really been that long?

“Lord,” he said, closing his eyes, “thank you for my daughter. She is so funny and smart and kind, and I am so glad I get to be her dad.” He opened his eyes and saw Junie peering at him through one open eye. She quickly closed it as if she’d been caught.

God, I love this girl. Take this pain away from her. Please.

“Keep going, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I pray that all the scary thoughts and dreams go away so she
can rest. Send your angels to watch over her tonight, Lord, and bring her peaceful sleep. In Jesus’ name . . .”

“Amen.” Junie smiled. “I can sleep now, Daddy. Thanks.”

He kissed her forehead and closed the door, stepping into the dimly lit hallway. Sadness wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed.

It shamed him that it took a request from his little girl for him to offer up any kind of prayer.

Rustling in the other room drew his attention, and he forced himself to regain his composure. He returned to the kitchen, where Kelly was packing up the files she’d strewn over the counter.

“Leaving?” He sat across from her.

“You seem preoccupied,” she said.

“Sorry.” He pulled one of the folders from the pile. What had they been discussing? He flipped it open. Contractors. “I like these guys. They aren’t the cheapest, but they aren’t the most expensive either, and I asked around. They have a good reputation.”

Kelly frowned. “Well, it’s your call,” she said. “But I’d probably go with this one.” She slid another folder toward him across the island, letting her hand linger on it until he reached out and took the file.

Jacob hadn’t dated anyone since Gwen died, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d begun to wonder if this whole thing was just a way for Kelly to spend time with him.

Didn’t it matter to her that he was Gwen’s husband? She said it did, but her actions told a different story.

The thought met resistance as soon as it entered his mind. What was he thinking? He was nobody’s husband. He could date Kelly
 
—or anyone else
 
—and it would be perfectly acceptable. Acceptable to others, that is.

“I’ll look them over,” Jacob said, though he’d already decided on the first option.

She smiled. “You always seem so stressed-out, Doc.”

Something else Gwen had told her?

“You need a good massage.”

Jacob stood. “No, just a good night’s sleep.”

She gave him a once-over and shrugged. “About that.”

Uh-oh.

“Can I just crash on your couch? I thought the drive wouldn’t get to me, but two hours is a lot when it’s this late.” Before he could respond, she’d already made up her mind. “You won’t even know I’m here, and I get up before the sun, so I’ll be out of your hair nice and early
 
—before Junie even wakes up.”

Two hours was a long way at this time of night. He shrugged assent, and she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Doc.”

She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Jacob wondering where the extra blankets were, but knowing Kelly, she’d figured that out too.

As he lay in bed, he already regretted the idea and even wondered if he should lock his bedroom door.

Don’t flatter yourself, Jacob.

But Kelly was the kind of forward he didn’t much care for. And while he didn’t have any problem telling her what he thought, he saw no reason for a confrontation
 
—especially since he needed her help.

Still, what if Junie woke up again and found a woman on the couch? Worse, what if Kelly took too long in the morning and Junie started asking questions? The last thing he wanted was to give his daughter any reason to question his integrity.

His thoughts quickly turned to Abigail and her henchwoman, Ursula Pembrooke. The plan they’d hatched had failed, and while Jacob felt bad about that, Kelly was right. He had a little girl to think about and a new life to build.

He hoped one day Abigail would understand.