Chapter Eight

 

I dressed with a purpose that morning. I chose some fabulous fitted jeans that showcased my figure and paired them with a violet blouse that I belted at the waist. I even ventured outside the norm and threw on some leather wedges. I added some volume to my hair, applied my make-up, and called it good. As I looked myself over in my long, free-standing mirror, I almost recognized myself. My skin was even glowing and the blue peeked out of my hazel eyes. It’s amazing the benefits you gain from eating real food caring about your appearance.

Blake hadn’t complained about my appearance, but he hadn’t complimented it, either. It’s not that he would; he wasn’t one to really dish out compliments. He never even said anything one way or the other when I cut six inches off my hair several weeks ago.

I went into work early and tried hard to be myself. I missed talking to my morning crowd at the café. And by the response I received, I was missed, especially from one group in particular.

There was the cutest bunch of “mature” ladies that set up shop in my café each morning. They each brought some project or another to work on—from knitting to scrapbooking. They also brought a computer and watched reruns of the show Reba, all while eating scones and sipping tea and coffee. I told Cheyenne and Abby that would be us someday. Abby was on board, Cheyenne, not so much. Doris, Ingrid, Fran, and Gerri stopped me as I walked by.

“You’re looking quite attractive this morning. Do you have a hot date?” Fran teased me.

“This early in the morning?”

“Morning dates are the best—it meant the night before never ended.” Doris winked at me.

Cheyenne was going to be the Doris in our group.

I shook my head at my seventy-year-old friend. “Blake and I do have a lunch date later.”

“Lunch,” Ingrid said. “Is that what you kids are calling it now?”

“You ladies are a lot of trouble. You know that, right?” I grinned at them.

They laughed and admitted wholeheartedly that they were. 

“Well, have a good day. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“You have fun at ‘lunch,’” Doris said with an impish grin.

I didn’t respond. I knew what she was talking about wasn’t on the menu and it hadn’t been for some time. I could hear the rumors now if people only knew we were sleeping in separate bedrooms. I tried not to let that thought get to me. It was a good thing we were stepping back and reevaluating, right?

I greeted several more customers before I made my way back to the counter. There sat Easton. Normally he took his food to go in the mornings, so I was intrigued as to why he was there.

“Easton,” I said as I stood across from him behind the counter.

He looked up from the Merryton Daily Press he was reading. He didn’t look well at all. His eyes were bloodshot and he was going way beyond the five o’clock shadow. He was an attractive man, but the scraggly beard did not suit him.

“Are you okay?” I asked when he didn’t say anything. He almost seemed paralyzed.

“Have you ever had a moment in your life where you knew exactly what you should do, but you didn’t do it, even knowing the outcome wouldn’t end well if you didn’t act?”

I thought for a moment as I watched him. I felt like his eyes were begging me for relief, but I didn’t know what to say or do. He looked about two seconds away from losing it. “Easton,” I said quietly, “what’s happened?”

“The outcome from not going after her.”

“Are you talking about Kathryn?” I leaned in and whispered. I didn’t want to start the rumor mill this morning.

The look of disgust on his face when I mentioned his wife’s name was more than telling. “I’m talking about Taylor.”

A hush could be felt across the café at the mention of his ex-wife’s name. I could feel the eyes on us. Easton didn’t seem to care. I guess the rumors about Kathryn weren’t just rumors.

I acted cautiously as I reached out and touched his hand. “Blake and I are here if you and Emmy need anything.”

That seemed to bring him to his senses. He looked around and everyone quickly went back to what they were doing. Dawning crossed Easton’s face, but he didn’t seem to care. “Thanks, Jessie,” he said as he stood up and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the counter. He walked out to the stares of many of the patrons. I could hear the gossip starting.

I walked back to my office and was almost tempted to message Taylor on Facebook. We hadn’t communicated in a while and I wondered if she knew what was going on with her ex-husband. Did she know that Easton regretted not going after her? Not that it mattered now, I guess. Their drama all took place not too long after Blake and I got married. I could tell something was off between the two of them at our reception, but I figured it was normal stuff all couples go through. Though Taylor and I rarely discussed Easton when we talked, I do remember her saying about a year after she left, “It’s like I never existed to him.” She sounded utterly defeated. I almost talked to Easton about it, but by that time he was with Kathryn. We all knew it wasn’t a match made in heaven. Kathryn went to school with us, and she and Veronica were friends—enough said. I always knew Easton would come to regret that decision. A beautiful face and long legs do not always equate with a beautiful person.

I went to work going through invoices—I had my own relationship issues to worry about. Good news for Easton though, as soon as it came out that Blake had a daughter, the rumor mill would be back to churning around us.

At one-thirty there was a knock on my door. I stood up and smoothed my shirt. I wasn’t sure why I felt nervous. I hadn’t ever felt that away around Blake. It was one of things that drew me to him. He had this way of making me feel like I belonged with him, not to him like a possession, but as part of him. I wanted to feel that way again.

I opened the door to find him standing there looking different than I was used to seeing him. He cleaned up well. He was still in jeans and a t-shirt, but they were clean and fit him exactly right. Marrying a health nut had its advantages, I suppose. I could see his muscles flex as he shoved his hands in his pockets like he was nervous, too. It made me smile.

“Hi,” I said.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Let me grab my bag.”

He waited for me as if he wasn’t sure what to do and I quickly joined him. We were acting like we hadn’t done this before. It had been awhile, but this was ridiculous. The thought occurred to me that we needed to put on a show of sorts as we walked down the hall to the seating area. I reached out and grabbed his hand and held it. I knew he would never think to do it. Blake wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy. And I felt like I needed to show him I was trying, too.

In a rare showing, his smile appeared as he looked down at our entwined hands. He squeezed tight and it sent a little flutter through my stomach. This was good, especially as we walked through the crowded café. We were playing the part of happy couple convincingly by the smiles and nods we received. I felt guilty in a way, like we were pretending, but I figured it was a start. Maybe if I could fake it for a while it would eventually become real. It was worth a shot. For good measure I leaned into him as we walked out the door. I felt like I was doing damage control.

We walked to his truck and he let go of my hand as soon as we reached it. In true Blake fashion, the only gentlemanly thing he did was press the unlock button on his key fob.

When we were both settled and securely buckled in he asked me, “Can you take the afternoon off?”

I nodded, very curious. This was not Blake’s style at all. And I couldn’t remember the last time we had spent an afternoon together.

“Do you mind if we head up into the canyon?”

“Not at all.” I looked down at my shoes. “Do I need to change?”

He looked over at me. “No.” He started the truck and drove off without another word.

“How was your flight?” I asked into the silence of the truck cab.

“On time.”

I almost laughed at him. He was so cut and dry. I knew once upon a time I had found it charming. “Blake?”

“Yeah,” he said as he looked straight ahead.

“Can we pretend I’m your wife?”

He looked over, confused. “You are my wife.”

“Then maybe I could get more than one or two words out of you at a time.”

He looked at me thoughtfully for a second. “How was your day?”

It wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I would take it. “Interesting. Easton came in this morning. I think he and Kathryn have split up.”

He didn’t respond, but I could see the wheels spinning in his mind.

“Did you know about that?”

“Yes.”

“And …?”

“I think it’s for the best.”

I turned toward the window. This was a nowhere conversation. I wasn’t digging for dirt; I only wanted some real conversation. The scenery somewhat made up for the silence. I loved to see the aspens in full bloom and the wildflowers that dotted the roadside. This was my favorite time of year. The snow had melted, or at least most of it had, depending on the elevation, and everything seemed alive. I loved the way the sun glistened through the newly budded trees. It even had me feeling alive.

“Jessica,” Blake said after several silent minutes.

“Hmm …” I said toward the window.

“I don’t want to talk about the demise of Easton’s marriage right now. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah.” I supposed it wasn’t the best conversation to have when your own marriage wasn’t rock solid.

The rest of the ride was silent. The radio was even turned off. Blake eventually pulled off onto a little side road that led to a rustic campsite near the river. We had been there before, but it had been years. When I was growing up, this was a favorite make-out spot. When Blake moved to town we frequented the spot—it was an activity that didn’t involve any speaking, so it was perfect for Blake. And my favorite pastime was making-out with Blake, so it was a win-win situation.

I had a feeling he wasn’t bringing us up here to make-out. We probably could do with a good session, though. I thought about the little ladies at my café today and their assumption about what a lunch date entailed. It was sad when seventy-year-olds were friskier than we were. I was supposed to be in my prime, according to Ladies Home Journal, but perhaps the fact I read that magazine said something about me and why I had the sex life of a nun. Or perhaps it was that I hadn’t felt comfortable with my body, or secure in my marriage.

I was glad to be out of the truck and in the fresh air. It smelled like pine and faintly of campfire. Soon the canyon and our town would be inundated with tourists, which meant Jessie Belle’s was about ready to hit its busy season. Taking an afternoon off like this would get harder. Well, maybe not if I let my manager do what I hired him to do. Someday, I thought.

Blake grabbed a large quilt and our picnic basket from the back. I guess he had gone home first. I followed him down to the bank of the river where he laid the blanket and set out the food. I kicked off my shoes and sat down across from him. We both stared at each other awkwardly. It caused a twinge of sadness. We shouldn’t be uncomfortable around each other.

I looked down at the spread of food and popped a strawberry in my mouth. There was an assortment of raw fruits and vegetables and what looked like some sort of chicken wrap. I was afraid to test the wrap. Blake wasn’t much on seasoning.

We ate in silence, taking turns staring at one another.

“Thanks for lunch,” I said after we finished eating.

“It’s not much.”

“It was perfect.” Well, almost. The wrap was okay—at least he had added some hummus. “So what did you want to talk about?”

He looked so handsome as he sat there with the sun shining behind him and the water pooling at the bank. “A few things.”

“You’re going to need to be more specific.”

He removed the picnic basket from between us and scooted closer. For a moment I thought maybe he did come out here to make-out. That both excited me and made me nervous, but it was a futile thought. He did take my hands, though. We probably looked like we were making some type of vow to each other as we sat face to face. He started playing with my ring. He never used to do that. I looked down at the one-carat, brilliant-cut stone set in a simple band. Underneath it sat a diamond-laid anniversary band. He had surprised me with it on our tenth anniversary. Maybe Blake wasn’t a lot of things, but he had excellent taste in jewelry—well, at least diamond rings. And at times he could be quite thoughtful.

The diamond solitaire he had purchased before he came to Colorado. It had been a serious risk on his part to buy a ring for a woman he had broken up with. I remember with perfect clarity that December day he came barging into the café looking for me. He looked like a man on a mission. I was behind the counter rearranging the display case and I remember seeing him through it. I was so stunned it took me a moment to stand up, but as soon as I did he rushed to the counter. “Jessica, can I please talk to you?” he begged.

I was of a mind to tell him no, but my mother answered for me. “This is perfect timing; she was just leaving for the day,” she lied. My mom pushed me out from behind and right into Blake’s arms. In a very non-Blake move he took me right up in his arms for all to see and kissed me until I kissed him back. Other than at our wedding, it was the only time he had ever kissed me in public. He proposed to me that night, but I told him I had to think about it. I couldn’t understand why he had broken up with me in the first place, and although I knew I loved him, I was afraid to commit to him like that.

But he was determined, and he sought the aid of my mother. Those two had gotten along from the beginning. I asked her why she helped him, and she said it was because there was a visible change in both of our countenances when he walked into Jessie Belle’s that first time, and she saw forever in both our eyes. I asked her what forever looked like and she said someday I would know for myself. I thought I got a glimpse of it when my parents looked at each other, but I had yet to see it in Blake’s eyes or my own. My mother still reminded me from time to time that it was there, and I only needed to look harder.

With that memory, I looked across and into my husband’s eyes. They didn’t look as troubled, but they were worried.

“Something you said last night bothered me,” he started off with.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s not anything you have to apologize for,” he said, almost irritated. “It’s probably something I should apologize for.”

“I’m confused.”

“Why would you think I don’t find you beautiful?”

“That’s what’s bothering you?”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

I honestly thought that was a no-brainer. “Blake, I can’t even remember the last time you told me I was beautiful. And to be honest, I can understand why you don’t.”

“Why I don’t what?”

“Why you don’t find me beautiful,” I said as I wiped a small tear from my cheek. I had promised myself no crying today. I guess that went out the window.

“Jess, I don’t know anyone more beautiful than you.”

I rolled my eyes.

He reached up and gently held my face in his hands. “Please look at me. I meant what I said. Maybe I don’t say it enough, but I’ve always thought that.”

“Well, maybe your mouth and your brain should get together more often.”

He half-smiled, which was like a full smile for him. “You are a beautiful woman. By the way, I like your haircut.”

I laughed loudly.

“What?”

“I cut my hair several weeks ago.”

“I know. I meant to say something about it.”

“Trying to find the right words?”

“Just the right time. Things have been so unsettled between us.”

“I know.”

“And I’m afraid what I have to ask you is going to make things even harder between us. And that’s the last thing I want right now.”

I sat up straighter, waiting for detonation.

Blake reached for my hands again and held them firmly. Then he pulled the pin in the grenade and released the handle. “Sabrina’s condition is deteriorating and she’s been accepted to participate in a clinical trial in Salt Lake City.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How’s Madeline taking it?”

He seemed surprised at my concern. I didn’t have anything against Madeline—she was innocent in all of this. Was I happy she was his daughter? No.

“She doesn’t really know how bad her mom’s condition is.”

“That doesn’t seem wise.”

“I agree, but that’s the way her mother wants it, and I don’t feel like it’s my place right now to disagree.”

That was understandable.

“So, do they need money?”

“That wouldn’t hurt—their living conditions are less than ideal—but what they really need is a place for Madeline to stay while her mom enters the cancer center there for treatment.”

Wow. This was getting real. “How long?” I managed to ask.

“For the summer.”

“What about her grandparents, or aunts, uncles, cousins?” I was getting desperate.

“They don’t have any family to speak of, or none that Sabrina is comfortable with her staying with.”

“And she’s comfortable with us? This child doesn’t even know us and she would be several hundred miles away from her mother.”

“Sabrina thinks highly of you and they really don’t have any other options.”

“I lived with her for six months, and it wasn’t like we were all that chummy. Certainly not as chummy as you all got when I left.” I knew that last part was petty and I regretted it the moment it came out, but it had been eating at me.

He dropped my hands. “Dammit, Jessica, I made a mistake! But after meeting Madeline I can’t say I regret it. I regret that it’s hurting you and our marriage, but we’re talking about my daughter here.”

The way he said my daughter shattered my heart into a million pieces.

We sat there staring hard at one another for several moments. My heart and my mind were waging a battle inside as our staring contest of sorts continued. Both my mind and my heart knew what the right thing was to do, but it ached me to the core.

“You should do what’s best for your daughter. If that means she needs to come here and stay with you, then that’s what needs to happen.” With that I turned from him and began to put my shoes on.

“Jess, what does this mean for us?”

I clasped my hands together and brought them up toward my face and took a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”