CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I left the meeting around six. I had a lot to think about as I drove, wondering what I would say when I spoke to Jackson. Obviously, an apology was a good place to start. Picturing his face on the Ferris wheel after I told him that he meant nothing to me made my stomach churn. But what then? I still wasn’t sure I could give him what he wanted. So would I just be opening up a wound for no reason? Maybe it would kinder to leave things as they were, even if they were going to eventually give me an ulcer.
Instead of doing anything remotely productive, I took a shower and got in pajamas. I made some tea and curled up on the couch, watching an episode of an old cop drama that I loved. I was starting to marginally feel better when the phone rang. My father’s picture flashed on the screen, and I answered.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, peanut. How’re you doing?”
“Fine.” I paused the TV with the remote. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’m making the rounds. I wanted to thank you guys for coming down and all the wonderful gifts. I love my French press.”
I hadn’t gotten him a French press. Damn that Art. “You’re welcome,” I said sweetly, not bothering to tell him that I had gotten him the watch. What did it matter as long as he enjoyed them? And if I could tweak Art’s nose while doing it, all the better.
“It was so great seeing everybody together again,” he prattled on. “We’re going to have to do it again next year. Maybe for Thanksgiving this time.”
“Maybe.” It certainly sounded better than watching Jules fuss over every appetizer that Martha Stewart ever made.
“You’ll bring Jackson?”
“Probably not,” I said shortly. “We broke up.” I didn’t bother to tell him that what I’d had with Jackson was fake. Apparently, it had been all too real, and I’d been the only one dense enough not to know it.
“That’s a shame. It really seemed like you two were in it for the long haul.”
“We were only together for a couple months. That’s not quite long enough to declare your undying love for one another.”
“I knew I loved your mother before I even knew what love was.”
“Well, we can’t all be that lucky, I guess.” I rubbed my finger on the edge of my throw, the nubby whorls like soft velvet against my fingertips.
“I pulled her over for doing forty-five in a thirty, you know. The woman was a bloody speed demon. She was driving a blue Pontiac firebird convertible. She had a scarf wrapped around her hair and these big Liz Taylor shades. When she took off those shades, I saw the most expressive brown eyes I’d ever seen. Could see every thought in her head.”
I smiled at the nostalgia in his voice. It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d told me the story, but I loved it so much that I didn’t mind. “And what was she thinking?”
“That I looked damn good in a uniform.”
“Dad!”
“Well, I did,” he insisted. “But fine. If you must have the real story, she was thinking I was pretty much an asshole for pulling her over. Then she told me as much.”
“I’m glad that didn’t deter you.”
He scoffed. “’Course not. I wrote my number down on scrap of paper. I handed it to her and told her that she should give me a call sometime.”
“I’m assuming that worked.”
“She scowled at me and said she’d take the ticket.”
I laughed. “That was mom. She was one of a kind.”
“She was a special woman,” he agreed. “And I miss her every day.”
Do you? I wasn’t going to say anything to ruin this moment, but in the back of my head, saw him grinning and cha-cha-ing with Irene. It was a different vibe than the one I was getting now, and it was hard to reconcile the two.
He sighed, as if he could read my thoughts on the airwaves. “You might as well go ahead and say it.”
“I’m glad you found someone else.”
“But?”
“But nothing.” I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. “You love who you love, and then you just…move on.”
“Is that what it seems like I did to you?” His voice was quiet. “That I just…moved on?”
“No! I just…” I blew out a breath. “We shouldn’t talk about this.”
“You mean like we always do? Maybe that’s part of the problem.” He was quiet a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts, before he spoke again. “AJ, your mother’s death took me to a very dark place. At one point, I felt like…like I was going through the motions. The person that I’d counted on for most of my life was gone. It wasn’t a matter of being two and now just being one. I wasn’t missing having a wife. I missed her. She was more than just my wife. She was my best friend. My confidante. My future.” He took a deep, shaky breath. “And what the hell do you do when your future dies? I didn’t know…I didn’t know if I could keep going. Or even if I wanted to.”
The thought of losing him was something I didn’t even want to think about, and made my chest tight and achy. “I never knew,” I whispered.
“I never wanted you guys to know. I wanted to be strong for you, and show you that we could find a way to pick up the pieces. We couldn’t do that with the same pieces, honey. We have to keep adding new pieces to make us stronger.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “If your mother was still alive, we’d still be together. I know that. Irene knows that. It’s part of the reason we do so well together, because she understands and accepts that I have a history. If you say you love me, really love me, then you love all the pieces that make me who I am. A huge part of who I am is that I once loved an incredible lady named Noelle. And part of me always will.”
“Thank you…” My voice faltered, and I had to clear my throat to go on. “Thank you for telling me that. I needed to hear it.”
“Well, you need to hear this, too. I don’t know what was really going on between you and Jackson, but there was something real there. Even though I’m pretty sure that half the answers you guys told me were pure fabrication.”
I swallowed guiltily. “I just didn’t want Lane to set me up with someone. And I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me, so I asked Jackson to come with me. It was pretend at first, but then it wasn’t…and now?” I shook my head. “Now everything is so screwed up.”
“Avery, that man cares about you.”
“You think so?”
He sighed. “Just for my general knowledge, are you going to keep asking me stupid questions?”
“You’re a parent,” I informed him. “You’re supposed to say there are no stupid questions.”
“Parents who say that clearly don’t interact with many people. There are stupid people out there who ask even stupider questions. And that was definitely one.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. It was stupid.”
“Not that,” I said with an exasperated noise. Crazy old coot. “Do you really think he cares for me?”
“Would I lie to you?”
“Not even if I wanted you to,” I said grimly. “Don’t think I forgot about the time I asked you how I looked in my prom dress.”
“It had ruffles, AJ,” he said with not an ounce of remorse. “I couldn’t do that to you. Now focus. The way Jackson looked at you…it was special. And it doesn’t come around very often.”
I bit my lip. I had no choice but to believe what he was saying. John Winters didn’t make up stories to make people feel better. He told it like it was and let the chips fall where they may. Even when you were seventeen in a gown that was more ruffles than dress and your prom date was outside on the front stoop.
“I hear you,” I finally said.
“You’d better. If you take nothing else from my life, know that when you find that person…once, twice, however many times in a lifetime, you’ve got to go for it. Every time.” He paused for effect before continuing. “So whatever happened between the two of you after you left? Make it right.”
“How?” I sighed heavily. “The things I said…”
“Go see him.” His voice was determined. “And say different things this time.”