A Notion of Love (20 page)

From the bedside I turned and managed a small smile at Blythe. Justin reached up and put his hand on Bly's for a moment.

“I'm glad you guys are here,” Justin finally managed, lifting his face. He looked so exhausted, so depleted. I moved and hugged him hard for a moment, rubbing his back. He loved my sister and I loved him for that.

“She'll be all right,” I whispered, because there could be no other option. “She will, Justin.”

***

Later, near
three, Blythe held me as I sobbed in his truck. We were in the hospital parking lot and all of the tears that I hadn't allowed to fall in front of Justin were streaming over my face. I clung to my man, my face pressed against his chest.

“I can't handle…what he said,” I choked out. “Blythe, I'm so scared. What if…”

“Baby, don't,” he murmured, stroking my hair, rocking me side to side. “She's gonna be all right. Justin is just scared, honey.”

“But he said…”

“I can't imagine what I'd be feeling if that was you in Jillian's place,” Bly said then, and the tone in his voice made my heart constrict. He drew back enough to cup my face, gently smoothing my hair and then tipping his forehead to mine. “Joelle, I would be feeling all of those same things.”

“Don't even say that,” I told him, my throat aching and my nose plugged. I clutched him even harder.

“Well I can't imagine thinking it would be worth it to go on without you,” he told me, his voice soft and deep. “Joelle, I love you with all my heart. You are everything to me. And Jillian is everything to Justin.”

“Blythe,” I whispered, getting my arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as I could. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Let's go home,” he said then. “I want to hold you while we sleep.”

***

The café
had been closed for the time being. Saturday evening found me on the porch with my two younger girls. Blythe was making us dinner in the kitchen; through the open window we could hear him as he worked. I rocked on the swing with Tish and Ruthie tucked against either side; the three of us watched a magenta sun sink into the orange sky beyond the trees across the street; the sunset was just slightly earlier every night, the air tinged with the first hints of autumn to come.

“Mama, I can't think about going to school,” Ruthie said then.

“Me, neither, Mom, not at all. Not when Aunt Jilly is in the hospital. You won't make us, will you?” Tish asked.

“You guys,” I said. “I understand that you feel that way. But you have to go to school.”

“But, Mom—” Tish began, though at that moment our neighbor Jake, who would be a senior this year, called over from his porch, “Evening, ladies,” and conveniently interrupted her.

The girls shifted position to look over at him. Tish called back, though with far less than her usual enthusiasm, “Hey, Jake.”

“Everything all right?” he questioned; he was so polite, and seconds later was climbing our porch steps, eyebrows lifted with concern.

I sighed internally, but Tish filled in with an explanation, saying, “Our aunt is in the hospital.”

Jake sank to sit on the top step, hooking one arm around his bent knee. He said, “I'm so sorry you guys. Is there anything I can do?”

“That's very kind of you,” I told him, truly appreciative. I knew he actually meant that. How many boys his age would even offer?

“We were just saying that we didn't want school to start,” Tish added. “Convince Mom not to make us go!”

Jake looked at me and smiled a little, almost shyly. He clarified, “I meant more like make you a casserole or something. Besides, school will be great. I'm excited for senior year.” He was wearing a Landon Rebels sweatshirt, I suddenly noticed. White, with indigo letters, our school colors.

“Camille isn't,” Tish tattled. “She doesn't want to go to school any more than we do.”

“But because of the baby,” Ruthie chimed in. “And Aunt Jilly.”

“Girls,” I scolded. “It's your sister's business.”

Jake was respectfully silent, though I knew that he had already long since been informed about Camille's pregnancy by my big-mouthed younger daughters.

“Dinner in fifteen minutes,” Bly said, coming out the screen door. “Hey, Jake. You want to join us?”

“Sure,” Jake said, and I refrained from rolling my eyes, not in the mood for company. But he would be a good distraction for the girls. “Mom is working tonight anyway. Thanks.”

“Why don't you guys go set the table for your mom?” Blythe asked the girls.

“I'll help,” Jake said, scampering after them.

I held out my arms and Bly grinned at me despite everything and sat on the swing, gathering me close against his warm side.

“God, I love you,” I said, moving to stroke my fingers through his hair. He'd agreed to grow it out again, if for no other reason than me being able to sink my hands into its length. I ran my nails over his scalp, making him shiver, before my hands sank to rest on his wide shoulders. His strong arms tightened around me and he kissed my forehead.

“Joelle,” he murmured, and kissed me again, this time aiming for my lips. And for that moment I let myself be grateful for everything I did have.

***

Mom called
around eight to see if we wanted to drive over to the café for some dessert; she said Clint wanted to see the girls and that Camille had been crying on and off all day; I could tell Mom was nearing her wit's end.

“We'll be there in ten minutes,” I said. “Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourselves,” Mom told me.

I'd been on the extension in our downstairs bedroom; as I came up the stairs I could hear Blythe, the girls and Jake at the kitchen table, playing poker. I studied them wordlessly for a moment, glad for Jake's easygoing personality and for giving Tish and Ruthie something else to focus upon. He was leaning over on the table opposite Tish, perusing his cards, and again he reminded me of Clint, possessed of the same amiability and sincerity. In some ways he was filling the void created by Camille's sudden, forced advent into the world of motherhood. The girls had been floundering in her absence, and Jake was just the big brother they needed. What other seventeen-year-old boy would be willing to play cards with two younger girls and their stepdad on a Saturday evening just before the school year started?

My gaze moved next to Blythe, who was facing away from me, his huge shoulders curved forward as he too leaned over the table, cards fanned in his hands. My fingers tingled to touch him, and I did, sliding my arms around his neck and hugging him from behind, resting my chin on his head. He reached with his free hand to curl his fingers around my left wrist. The kids all looked up at me questioningly.

“Grandma wants to know if you guys want dessert at the café,” I explained. “Jake, you want to join us?”

“Yeah, thanks!” he said genially.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Tish said, flopping her cards onto the table. “I had a shitty hand anyway.”

“Hey now,” I told her, as Ruthie giggled a little.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding at all sorry.

“Load up,” I ordered, giving her a look, and minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot at Shore Leave. The porch lights were glimmering for us, beacon-like. Mini lighthouses.

In times of trouble we gathered. Rich was there, and Dodge, hanging around table three with Clinty. I could tell Mom and Ellen were trying to keep things as normal as possible, despite the fact that Jilly's absence from the café was equivalent to a gaping, jagged-edged hole a meteor might leave behind. The radio in the bar was tuned low to the country station, and Mom and Ellen were just dishing out pieces of Clint's favorite cake, yellow with chocolate-fudge frosting. Justin was of course at the hospital; Dodge had already told me he was joining him later tonight.

Camille was at the counter, dressed in the light blue cotton pants and a tattered old AC/DC t-shirt, formerly her dad's, she wore as pajamas, her long hair in a messy knot on the top of her head. She shot me a look of intense irritation when she noticed that Jake had accompanied us.

Sorry,
I mouthed discreetly, and she turned back to the lemonade she'd been drinking, ignoring all of us, her shoulders set in an angry line. Well, some things never changed. Jake studied her back for just a second with undisguised lovesickness before quickly looking away; he'd been pretty much a goner for her since the afternoon they'd met, despite the fact that she hardly gave him the time of day. But that something into which I was absolutely not getting involved, and so pretended not to notice a thing.

“Kids, join us,” Rich welcomed, snuggling Ruthie with one arm as she went at once to his side. Tish and Ruthie claimed chairs, while Blythe and Jake drew two from an adjacent table and Dodge dealt them all into the next round. Ellen passed out cake and Mom asked me, untying her apron and pitching it over the counter, “Walk with me, Jo?”

“Of course,” I said.

Out under the stars, Mom hooked her arm through mine as we made our way onto the dock. She was just a little shorter than me, her freckled arm soft and plump against my side; the scent of the butter cake she had baked earlier still clung to her hair. We sat on the glider and I kicked it gently into motion, keeping Mom's arm close. I finally said, “Gran.”

“I know,” Mom sighed. “God, I wish she was here.”

“Me too,” I whispered, feeling my throat closing off with a jagged lump, as it had about a million times since last weekend. Too much had happened since then and we were all reeling.

“We'll scatter her ashes when Jillian is home,” Mom added decisively, in response to the question I hadn't asked.

“Over the lake,” I agreed. “And then we'll have Justin and Jilly's wedding.”

“Oh, it breaks my heart that Gran won't be here for that,” Mom sighed. “Or for yours. And for Jillian and Justin's baby. Oh God. Oh, Joelle. I wish I was as strong as her. Ma always knew how to take things in stride. I'm a wreck. I've depended on my mother for so many years.” She turned to me then, and tears were streaking over her cheeks; she used her free hand to wipe them. “Joelle, I'm so sorry about everything with Jackson. I was wrong. I admit it. Blythe is the man for you, just like Justin is for Jilly. I've been feeling so guilty, honey.”

“Oh, Mom,” I said, tipping my head onto her shoulder. “Don't.”

“No, I have. You and I have always butted heads, Jo, and Jilly has always been so easy for me to get along with. An easier child all around. I'm sorry to say that, but you know. Any mother knows that about her children. But I love you so, Joelle, don't ever think I don't. I admire your courage, and I admire how much you've changed this summer.”

“Oh, Mom,” I said again, about to give into full-scale weeping. I turned into my mother's arms and let her hold me like when I was little, let her comfort me as I hadn't in too many years to count. I knew exactly what she meant; didn't I secretly acknowledge the same thing about Ruthie? My sweetest daughter, the one who gave me the least trouble? It wasn't a matter of loving one child more than another, it was a matter of the ability to get along day to day with the least possible stress. And I knew I'd caused my mother enough stress for a lifetime.

“Your hair is just like Gran's,” Mom observed after a while, gently combing her fingers through it. “You and Jillian both have that Davis corn silk hair. Comes from some lovely ancestor.”

“The prostitute, right?” I whispered against Mom's lap, where my head had ended up, teasing a little despite everything.

“Maybe so,” Mom said; Great-Aunt Minnie had always insisted that one of her great-something grandmothers had been a saloon girl. We all played along for the notoriety of such a claim.

But reality caught up with me too soon, and I moaned, “I'm so worried, Mom.”

Mom made a gulping sound before saying, “She'll be all right, Jo. She has to be. For all of us.”

“Thanks for apologizing,” I whispered, at last managing to sit up and swiping at my wet cheeks with the base of my palms. “That means a lot to me.”

Mom smiled a little and said, “Blythe looks at you the way Justin looks at Jillian. I'm so happy that you girls have found love. You deserve it.”

Later we rejoined everyone inside, where the action sounded rather boisterous. I was relieved to see that Camille had been talked into joining them; she was even smiling a little, elbowing Tish about something as they bickered like the good old days. Blythe looked over instantly as Mom and I came through the screen door, his eyes concerned, and I went immediately to him, where he scooted out his chair so I could sit on his lap; I did so with no self-consciousness, recalling how last weekend at this time he'd still been in jail in Oklahoma. To have him here was so incredibly good and I kissed his temple as he curved one arm around my waist, whispering into my ear, “I love you,” under the cover of everyone else chattering as Rich dealt yet another round.

We played for another hour, Blythe and I continuously being accused of cheating since we were playing as a “team,” Tish proving to be a fabulous little bluffer, though Jake seemed to know every time and called her out. After second pieces of cake and cups of coffee for Dodge and Rich, Dodge finally said, “I better get going. The boy's expecting me.”

“Can I come with you?” Clint asked. His blue eyes were slightly puffy from lack of sleep in the past few nights, but Dodge said immediately, “Of course.”

“I'll come too,” I offered. “I haven't been over since this morning.”

Blythe hugged me tightly and said, “I'll get everyone home, don't you worry, baby.”

***

At the
hospital thirty minutes later we found Justin dozing, his right arm bent under his head, which was propped on the bed by Jillian's side. He stirred immediately as we came into the room, looking so exhausted that I ordered, “Justin, Jilly would be furious at me for letting you get away with not sleeping or eating. Lie down on the cot, for heaven's sake. Right now.”