My heels click on the stone pavers as I follow the signs around the side of the house and into the large backyard. People are scattered around the space, many looking at the photo collage hanging from the stucco wall of the house. His face is young in the largest of the images, so handsome, with that hint of humor sparkling in his eyes; eyes that remained just like that right up until he took his last breath.
Nurses aren’t supposed to develop feelings or relationships with their patients. We’re supposed to be caring and supportive and when the time comes to say goodbye, whether they are discharged from the hospital or to the great beyond, we’re to send them off with a smile. I don’t feel like smiling now, although I am relieved that he’s no longer suffering. I will miss his wise words, the occasional flirting, and the friend he was to me. I’ll miss many things about my buddy Charles Endicott, but I’m also very grateful to have the memories that I do.
“Hello, Isabella. Thank you for coming.” His sweet wife Claire embraces me tightly and warms me with a bright smile. “It means so much to have you here.”
“I’m honored to be here. And to have known him.”
Weaving her arm through mine, she pulls me toward the wall of photographs and one by one, gives me a brief history of each. Scattered on the wall is a lifetime of love and happiness and family. Pictures of her and her husband in the early years, images of them with their children, and many of him as a young boy—that impish smile of his beaming. With each one comes a story, a laugh, or a smile that hides just a bit of sadness. And while I listen and ask questions, I feel an intense, deep need to have this identical life for myself.
I want history with someone. Someone who can finish my sentences and who knows what I’m thinking without having to ask. I want old memories, new memories, and memories no one can take away, not even death. I want what Claire had: a great love who loves me the “right” way, in all those ways Mr. Endicott so unselfishly loved her.
I used to believe I wasn’t worthy of that kind of love. That no man could love me knowing about my past, but that’s been proven wrong, time and time again. Correction: Jace has proven it wrong time and time again. He’s been my best friend almost from the beginning, weathering the ups and downs and all my chaotic highs and lows. I’ve tested his patience so many times with all the indecision and silent days. Right up until the other day in the coffee shop when I was still doing my best to test him in every way; he remained steadfast in his support of me. I’m quite certain there have been many, many times when he hasn’t liked me very much, the other day included, but his encouragement has never, ever wavered. His hand has always been out to hold me up, and he—more than Roman, more than any other family member—has been unwavering in his belief that I could rise above what happened to me.
“You know, my dear, Charlie loved you like one of our own,” she whispers, winking at me.
“He was a pretty special guy.” My heart clenches when I think about his final days and how stoic he was right up until the end. He was a fighter, stronger than any of us ever gave him credit for. All those times he’d leave the hospital and I’d wonder if I would ever see him again. Time and time again, we’d think he was on that final slope, and he’d come right back kicking and screaming.
She pulls me along to the refreshment table and motions for me to help myself. “He worried about you. He was so hoping you would have found a nice young man.”
Nice. Yes, I think Jace would most definitely qualify as nice. And honest. And good, not only to me but just good in general. He’s a keeper, that Mr. Austin, so I’m not at all sure why I’m hesitant to meet him halfway.
I shrug as I pile some vegetables and dip on my plate. “Well, I might have. There are just a few things to work out first.”
Claire smiles. “I certainly hope you work those things out. You deserve to be happy, Isabella.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
We chat for a bit longer, and then she moves on to some of the other guests leaving me alone with my thoughts. Looking around, I’m astounded at the amount of people gathered here to celebrate the life of the man I knew only on a very basic level. We had some nice conversations, but we certainly didn’t have a history together. Of course I cared for him and made his final days as comfortable as possible, but I definitely didn’t know him like so many others did with lifetime memories to hold dear for years to come.
Thinking back on the past ten years, I have to ask what do I have to show for myself? I wasted time on a nothing relationship with Damian. I spent a whole lot of time by myself. There were far too many nights fighting ghosts simply because I hadn’t dealt with the pain of what happened. I have squandered so much time hiding, running, and being afraid of living. I’m nowhere near a point where I can say I’ve fully dealt with the past, but I am sick and tired of that past controlling my future.
I want to live. I want a life, a happy life, a life with a beautiful man standing by my side day in and day out. If I’m lucky, that man will be Jace. If I haven’t alienated him completely and eroded any last remaining bits of patience he might have, maybe he’ll want the same thing.
Having Mr. Endicott blaze in and out of my life was a blessing, one I will cherish every single day. Strangely enough, I feel exactly the same way about Jace. Just as Charlie’s conversations with me made me question what I want, Jace’s presence in my life answered them. I can only hope I haven’t lost him for good.
I stay for another hour or so then take my leave and wander out to my car digging around for my keys. As I slide behind the wheel, my phone rings; Jace’s handsome picture lights up the screen. Shaking my head, I wonder if he somehow sensed that I was thinking about him.
“Hey, Jace. How are you?”
“I’m good, Bella. Am I interrupting anything?”
I give him a quip synopsis of my afternoon then, “Was there a particular reason you called?”
“Well, yeah, there was.” He pauses for a moment, and I swear I can hear the sound of his fingers plucking guitar strings. The memory makes me smile. “Roman called to invite me to Emmy’s birthday party. Did he tell you he was going to do that?”
Grinning, I reply, “Yes, actually, he did.”
There’s a thick beat of silence then, “Oh. Okay. So you’re cool with me being there?”
His insecurity, which is very un-Jace like, is sexy as hell. “Yes, I’m cool with you being there. You’re family.” So maybe that’s a smidge assumptive on my part, but technically it’s true … sort of. Emmy does call him Uncle Jace, after all.
“Wow, Bella. You’ve shocked the hell out of me.”
His honesty warms me all over. “Shocked myself too.”
“So … um … yeah … I guess I’ll see you then.”
Ruffled, stammering Jace is so darn cute. “Sounds good.”
I’m still grinning all over myself when I pull into my parking spot and kill the engine. Even though I spent the afternoon effectively saying goodbye to one life, it feels like I’m saying hello to another.
Mine.
What an odd feeling to have, to be free enough after all these years to hope again. I haven’t felt hopeful since I left for college with all those wide-eyed dreams and wishes of a bright and eventful future laid out before me. I’ve had my moments since then, but I’ve never felt as liberated as I do right this moment.
Maybe this is the path I needed to walk to get where I am. Maybe I had to go through the past ten years effectively alone to appreciate having others who care about me. I’m not about to think for one moment that Jace and I are going to slide right back into a trouble-free relationship, but I am hopeful we’ve weathered the worst.
My eyes cut to his Jeep parked in its usual place a few spaces over from mine. Sure, I could go to his place, say a few well-placed words and maybe—hopefully, fingers crossed—have him eating out of the palm of my hand, but we’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to get where we are. And now, almost a year after first meeting one another, I want to do this right. I somehow need to make certain he knows just how very much I value him. Not just his friendship, not just his support. Just him … every tall, blond, hazel-eyed, huge heart part of him. My very own swoon-worthy, Shakespearian-loving, sexy-nerd, teacher man.