Second Chances (21 page)

As always, his words touched the core of my entire being. He felt and said just what I needed to hear. I told him, my voice soft and almost shy, “You're so amazing. You always say things like that and I feel so special. So safe in your love, so wrapped in it. So important to you.”

His voice was husky as he replied, “You are important to me, baby. The most important part of my life. And I mean to show you that every day. All the nights this last month I spent lying in that cell and imagining that you were beside me and I could feel your heart beating and hear your soft breathing. I mean to hear that every night for the rest of my life.”

My heart caught and lifted up into the sky and tears prickled into my eyes again, spilling down my face. I was choked up as I said, “I'm holding you to that.”

“Don't cry, baby, it breaks my heart if I can't be there to hold you,” he said softly. “Tell me instead about your birthday. Was it a good party?”

“No, because you weren't there,” I said, swiping roughly at my tears. “But I'm glad we had it. Gran baked her famous chocolate birthday cake. We haven't had that since we were teenagers. Jilly and I always used to have a double birthday celebration. But something else happened…something shitty…I mean, at the party. Before everything with Gran.”

Tears streaked over my cheeks again, but I continued, determined to tell him everything. “I have to back up. Blythe, Jackson has been in town all month. You know he brought divorce papers. But he's been reconsidering the whole divorce. He's been spending all this time with the girls. They've missed him. They love him, I can't…I mean, I
wouldn't
…change that. I'm glad they do. But they don't seem to truly understand that it's over between their dad and me.” I drew a deep breath and then rushed on. “And on my birthday he told me…” suddenly I felt terrible. Why did I think this would be anything Blythe would want to hear? But he deserved my honesty.

“Told you what?” Bly asked, his voice was so close and rough with emotion that I felt as though if I turned my head I would see him sitting beside me, here in the darkness.

“That he didn't want a divorce. That he still loved me.”

“He did.” Blythe's voice was flat. Almost despairing.

“But don't you see?” I begged into the silence. “It doesn't matter. I don't love him.”

There was still silence, though I could hear Bly as he breathed. I pictured him sitting on the steps of the trailer, the hand not holding the phone braced in his short hair.

“Blythe!” I begged again. “Please tell me what you're thinking.”

He drew in a deep breath and said, “Promise me, Joelle, that if you still feel anything for him that you'll take that into consideration.”

My heart was thundering again, in shock. I could sense then that he was terrified, that he thought I would tell him that I wasn't sure, that I needed time. He was giving me an out and I was appalled that he would even think I might be on the fence.
No, no, no
. I said, my voice trembling with sincerity, “You know that I don't. You
know
that, Blythe. Don't doubt it for a moment.”

“I hate him,” he said then, fiercely. “That he would do this to you. After
everything
he's done to you.”

“Blythe,
you
are everything to me,” I said fervently. “I wish I could go back to July and kick myself bloody for hurting you.”

“You just did what you thought was right, for the kids,” he said, and I was glad to hear that he sounded more like himself, less like he'd just been fisted hard in the gut. “I knew it then. And I know you love me. I don't doubt it, baby. But you scared me there.”

“I just wanted you to know what happened. I don't want us to have secrets. And I don't want you two to fight, ever again. That was so horrible.”

“I know,” he said. “And I'm sorry it happened. I'm not sorry I hit him though.”

“I know,” I said, repeating his words. “And I would only ever tell you this, but I love that you stood up for me, that you protected me when you thought I'd been hurt.”

“I would do that and more,” he said with feeling. “Joelle, just wait. I'll be there tomorrow. And Wednesday is the service, right?”

“Yes. We put together all these pictures today. There are so many more pictures than I remembered. There were even a few of my grandfather, Aaron Owens. And Gran was so pretty. She looked so happy. I think she was happy, Bly, here all these years running the café. I hope she was. I don't know what my life would have been like without her.”

“Sweetheart, she was happy. I only had to be around her for one day to see that. She loved you guys so much. You should have heard her talk about you before you and the girls got to Shore Leave last May. I'd even go so far as to say that you were her favorite.”

“Nah, but I'd like to think so,” I said, smiling.

“How are the kids doing? How's Clinty? I can't tell you how much I've missed everyone. And the lake, the whole place. Sometimes when I was lying there in jail I'd feel like all my time at Shore Leave was just this beautiful dream. Like I'd just imagined all of it.”

“You most certainly did not,” I told him firmly. “I'd like to think that eventually Jillian and I will be running the café. And you and Justin can help. But we have final say.”

Blythe snorted and then laughed. “Oh, well, as long as that's clear. How's everything between those two?”

“Good, so good. I'm so glad to see it.”

“My sweet girl. What else have I missed this month? Tell me about our house.”

When Jilly
found me hours later, I was curled up on the glider, sound asleep but still clutching the phone. Jillian laughed a little, waking me. I blinked, sat up and immediately brought the phone up to my ear. The last thing I remembered was curling up with Blythe's voice and whispering good-night.

“Was that your man?” my sister asked, as she sat and then wrapped her arms around my waist, snuggling her chin against my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said. “It was my man. And Jilly, he'll be here later today. I'll see him.” She squeezed me and I put my arms over hers, squeezing back. I asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Mom finally went to bed. I told her that she needed to rest.”

“Good, she does. I didn't mean to fall asleep. Bly must have fallen asleep too. I wanted to hear him breathe all night,” I sighed, cradling the phone even still.

“Oh, barf,” Jilly teased me. But I knew she understood.

“Come on, let's go to bed too.”

Bly called
me back at first light.

“I didn't mean to fall asleep,” I told him. “I don't remember falling asleep.”

“I do,” he said, teasing me a little with his soft, warm, sleepy tone. “You said you were going to lie down for just a minute. Down by the lake, too. You're probably covered in bites, baby. Don't worry, I'll inspect you when I get there.”

“What time?” I murmured. “Hurry. Blythe, hurry to me.”

“Aw sweetheart, I will. We'll be there by early afternoon, I hope. We're leaving for the airport in a half hour.”

“Give Christy a hug for me,” I told him, rolling to my other side. I'd spent the night on Jilly's couch again, too tired to drive back over to Broom Street early this morning.

“I will, love. And I'll see you so soon.” His voice was almost giddy with excitement.

Tears filled my eyes at the gift of him, his incredible love.

“I love you,” I whispered to him and he said softly, “I know.”

When I
walked over to the café a half an hour later, Tish was at the stove scrambling eggs while Ruthie fried bacon. I poured a cup of coffee, marveling at my girls, how they'd changed over the summer months. I realized it was September now and moved to tear August from the calendar hanging on the wall, the same style we'd always had at Shore Leave, a locally-made one featuring images of southern Beltrami county businesses. In fact, we'd been the May image if I remembered right.

“That smells good,” I told them, sitting at the counter.

“Morning, Mom,” Tish said, appearing in the server window. “Aunt Jilly said Blythe is coming back today.”

I felt myself grinning and nodded. “Yeah, he is. I hope that you guys are excited to see him. He's really missed you.”

Tish nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, we missed him too.”

Leave it to her to take things in stride; I appreciated that very much about Tish. I remembered when she'd been born and we'd named her Patricia Joan (after our mothers), I imagined calling her Patty Jo. It was only when tiny Camille began lisping ‘Tisha' in an attempt to speak her sister's name that we realized she would never be a Patty Jo. Certainly someone with that nickname would have a much different personality than Tish.

“Where are Grandma and Aunt Ellen?” I asked her.

“They drove into town to see about something at the funeral home,” Tish explained. “Aunt Jilly's out on the dock on the phone with Justin and Clint is still sleeping.”

“Well thanks for making breakfast,” I told them.

An hour later Mom and Ellen were back, bustling in with their arms laden. I helped them unload groceries and arrange flowers and clean, though the café was virtually spotless. I tried very hard to quit looking at the clock every five minutes or so. But as each moment ticked past, Blythe was moving closer to me. Just after noon I found my mother out on the dock, where she was standing and staring reflectively over Flickertail Lake, having a smoke. Though she certainly felt my footsteps, she didn't turn around. I reached her and looked out in the same direction.

The lake was in a petulant mood today, under a sky that couldn't make up its mind. Fat white clouds with smooth silver undersides raced along in a brisk wind, creating alternating bursts of sun and shadow. Out on the wide surface beyond our small bay, Flickertail was laced with miniature whitecaps. I was wearing cut-offs and a cream-colored tank, my hair loose over my shoulders and blowing into my face, and I suddenly wished I had grabbed a sweatshirt. Mom, whose hair was held back in a clip, flicked the last of her ash and then looked over at me; I couldn't read her expression exactly, but I offered a tentative smile.

“Joelle, I'm sorry about everything,” she said then. “I still think you're making the wrong decision, honey, but I won't mention it again, deal?”

I sighed; she'd offered an apology at least.

Mom turned back to the lake and I finally said, “Deal.”

By 2:30
I had given up all pretense of doing anything but watching for their rental car. Bly had called to tell me he and Rich were an hour away an hour ago, and I was 10 times as jittery as a girl waiting for her first date to arrive. Mom, Ellen and the kids were all over at the house, where Camille had chosen a paint color for the nursery. Probably I should have been helping them do a little pre-painting work but when I said as much to Jilly, who was sipping a bottle of orange soda, she replied, “Screw that. They have plenty of help without us.”

She'd given up trying to make conversation with me and was doodling on a napkin. The clouds had finally been swept away and the wind had slacked off, leaving a mild, pleasant afternoon out the windows. I sighed again and received a pointed look from my sister. But suddenly her expression changed markedly and she gestured behind me with her pen; I whirled around just in time to see Blythe climb out of the driver's side of a car I didn't recognize and jog towards the café.

I flew and we crashed together with enough force to send Bly reeling backward, my legs going around his waist as he went to his knees and then all the way to the ground, with me clinging like a monkey. I was laughing and crying at the same time. Blythe had his hands in my hair, commandeering me for a kiss from flat on his back. I couldn't touch him enough, my hands sliding over his torso, back to his face, into his short thick hair; at last I gripped his ears, lifting my face just a fraction, enough to look into his beautiful, dear, blue eyes. He kept his fingers in my hair and traced my cheekbones with his thumbs, a sweet smile lifting one corner of his lips. Our hearts were beating crazy rhythms against each other. He said, “Hey, there,” and tears swished over my face even though I was smiling too. He added, “Missed me a little, huh?”

In response I kissed him again, thoroughly. He wrapped his arms possessively around me. He was so tall, so solid and strong beneath me; I fit myself over him like frosting on a cake. It wasn't until I heard a very pointed
ahem
that I noticed Jilly's feet, clad in her red flip-flops and with bright orange toenails, 18 inches from our heads. She said, “You know, some of the rest of us would like to say hello to the guy, too. Some of us have
also
missed him.”

I shaded my eyes and looked up at her. Bly kept me in his arms as he rolled to his knees and said with complete composure, “Hi, Jilly. How are you?”

She grinned at us and threw her arms around his neck for a good squeeze. “Well, way better now. Joelle can quit being so damn moody now that you're back. I couldn't take another minute of her talking about how much she missed you, seriously.”

“Is that so?” he asked, tipping his head at me. He held me like a bride going over the threshold, and I tightened my arms around his neck.

“Yeah, that's so,” I said.

“Wow, what happened to your hair?” Jilly asked, hands on hips and one eye squinted as she studied him.

I slid my nails along the sides of his scalp, combing through his hair, and he shivered a little, tightening his grip on me.

“I'm finally getting used to it. But I shaved off the beard yesterday,” he explained. “I wanted to keep it, but Rich and Mom conspired against me.”