Chapter Thirty
Aunt Beth was waiting for Gemma when she walked in the door.
"You should have told me how bad the damage was," she scolded the second Gemma stepped inside. "Instead, I had to hear it from several people who witnessed that little run-in you had with Edmond Jessup." She sighed, sounding angrier than Gemma had ever seen her before—worse than the night she'd thrown her walker through the living room window. "I'm not an invalid. I could have helped. And it's my property. I had a right to know what was going on."
Gemma's eyes were still hot and puffy. Her insides felt like they'd been ripped out through her navel and put in backward. Her arms and legs were stiff and heavy, and every step she took was a chore.
She and Saxon were over. He was never going to hold her again or kiss her. She was back to being alone, and it hurt so bad she didn't know how she was going to draw in her next breath, much less face Aunt Beth's wrath.
"I didn't want to worry you," Gemma said, but her voice was flat and lifeless.
"Did it ever occur to you that I could have smoothed things over with Edmond? That I could have pulled some strings at town hall to get him to do the inspections? Or that maybe, I would have liked to discuss the insurance claim you filed with my agent? You acted like I was a child, incapable of dealing with even the smallest problems." Her voice rose in a great swell of frustration and anger. "Well I'm not!"
"I'm sorry, Aunt Beth," Gemma said, wishing that she could just go up to her room and fall into bed. Maybe if she slept, things would seem less bleak in the morning. "I didn't mean to upset you. What I did was out of love. I wanted you completely focused on your recovery."
Aunt Beth shook her head. Her silvery hair, usually worn in a knot, was loose around her frail shoulders. The pale strands swayed so vigorously they tangled. "You and Cotton are just alike—assuming that my fall rattled my brains as well as my hip. As good as your intentions may be, I'm not the kind of woman who needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool and put on a high shelf. I've been alone a long time and done quite well. Sure, I'm not yet able to go up stairs and some things are harder than they used to be, but I'm still the same intelligent, capable woman I've always been."
"That's why I wanted to get the bakery open so desperately. I know you'd need something to keep you busy—that you aren't yet ready to retire. Whether or not it pisses you off, everything I've done has been with the goal of getting you back on your feet and able to function without me."
Aunt Beth closed her eyes and pushed out a long breath. When she opened her eyes again, there was less rage there and more of her usual sweetness. "I'm sorry if I sounded harsh. I am grateful for all you've done. I just wish you would have talked to me about what was going on. I don't like it when you shut me out."
Gemma thought about all of the things she wanted to say—how her heart was breaking and her world was no longer the bright, shiny place it once had been. Coming here had changed everything. She knew now that Aunt Beth would not always be around, and that loving and losing was definitely worse than not loving at all.
She wished she'd never met Saxon, much less fallen for him. She didn't know how she was going to get through each day without seeing him. His absence had carved out this great big void in her chest, and she had no idea what she was going to do to fill it.
"It won't happen again," was all Gemma could think to say. "Besides, it's all over now. The bakery should be ready to open in a few more days. I'll work there until you're able to do so yourself, or until we can find someone else to fill in for you. Temporarily, of course."
"For your information, I'm getting stronger every day. I even made it to the bathroom with only a cane this week. My physical therapist thinks I'll be off the walker in a few more days if I keep working."
"I don't want you to take any chances."
"Life is all about taking chances, sweetheart. Once you stop doing that, you might as well be dead." After uttering that statement, Aunt Beth got a distant look in her eyes, like she'd just solved some great puzzle. "I need to make a phone call. Try to get some rest, Gemma. You look exhausted."
Aunt Beth was right, but Gemma was more than that.
She was devastated.
***
Beth dialed Cyrus and held her breath while the phone rang.
She didn't usually call this late, so when he answered, it was with a hint of panic in his voice. "Are you okay, Beth?"
"No," she said. "I mean, I'm safe—not hurt or anything—but I'm far from okay."
He let out a relieved sigh. "Tell me what's going on."
"I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of feeling guilty. I'm tired of not taking chances."
"I don't understand, sweetheart. You're going to have to spell it out for me."
"I loved Walter. When I lost him, I didn't think I'd survive. Honestly, I hoped I wouldn't."
Cotton's voice was low and soft, comforting. "I understand. There's no shame in that. No guilt."
"The guilt came later. With you. With us." She took a deep breath and let the words free in a rush. "I love you, Cotton, and it feels like I'm cheating on Walter somehow. I know that's ridiculous, but I don't know how to get over it."
"I understand," he said again, quietly, and she knew he did. He wasn't just saying the words. He felt them. He'd lived them.
"But I don't want to be alone anymore. I don't want you to be alone, either. I love you." Saying those three words aloud was addicting. She couldn't seem to say them enough, and was certain she was going to start babbling like a child at any moment, uttering confessions of love filled with tears and giggles.
"I love you, too, Beth. I have for a long time."
"But I was afraid."
"You needed time," he corrected.
"Neither of us has much of that left."
His voice was low, soft. "And yet it's a lifetime if we want it to be."
"I do," she said, her tone fierce. "I want that more than I want to walk strong and tall again."
He chuckled, and his deep voice tickled her ear. "I didn't think you wanted anything more than to get rid of that damn walker."
"That should tell you something," she said, and then, after a pause to gather her courage. "I'm done being afraid. I'm going to start taking chances again. Starting with you. If you'll have me."
"Beth Fortier, I love you, and I'll have you any way I can get you."