All of Me (37 page)

“You know, I really don’t believe in that sort of thing, Evie.”

“I didn’t either, but when Tuck …” Evie bit down on her bottom lip.

“When Tuck what?”

“On the second anniversary of Aimee’s death, Ridley stuck Tuck in the sweat lodge and he had a vision.”

“Good vision or bad vision?”

“It was about you.”

“Really? What did he see?”

“You’ll have to ask Tuck; he didn’t talk to me about it. I got all this secondhand from Ridley.”

“So this vision you had,” Jillian said, switching the focus back to Evie. “What was the omen?”

“I’ll probably never have kids, and I want them so badly. The thing is, it’s affecting our marriage. Ridley tries and he’s
Mr. Optimistic, but, Jillian, I’m scared we won’t survive this.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“Come on, you guys really love each other. You can work this out. Can’t you?”

“I don’t know if love is enough. I’ve tried to keep the faith but …” Evie swallowed visibly as the tears streamed faster down
her face. “I got my period. I was so hoping that this month—this time—after all the love we made during the blizzard … but
it’s just not going to happen. Faith isn’t going to change reality. Babies just aren’t in the cards for us.”

Evie’s distress stilled Jillian’s heart. She wasn’t a big believer in the power of love in the first place, but to think that
a couple as strong as Evie and Ridley couldn’t overcome their problems confirmed every negative thing she’d ever believed
about love.

“I’m sorry. So there’s no hope left?”

Evie wiped at her eyes, tried to smile but failed miserably. “We’re going to New York to spend Christmas with my sister Desiree
and her family. I have an appointment with a celebrity fertility specialist. He helps movie stars in their fifties have babies.
It’s gonna cost us a big chunk of our savings, but I’m desperate. If this doesn’t work …” She let her words trail off again.

“I wish you the best of luck.”

At that moment, the bell over the door jangled. Bill Chambers and his fiancée Lily Massey came in, bundled in snowsuits and
gazing romantically into each other’s eyes. Jillian felt a twinge—part jealousy, part longing, part concern for Lily, who’d
torn up her prenup agreement for this man. She had no legal protection now; she was banking her future on love.

“Jillian, hi!” Lily called out, and scurried across the room toward her, Bill following in her wake. “I’ve been looking all
over for you.”

“What’s up?”

“We just wanted to give you this.” Lily placed a white linen card in her hand. “An official invitation to our wedding on Christmas
Eve. You’re still planning on coming, right?”

Why not? It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go. “Sure.”

“Evie and Ridley are bailing on us.” Lily gave a pretend pout.

“Family thing,” Evie said.

“We understand,” Bill interjected.

“But we’re sooo going to miss you,” Lily said with her native California inflection.

The door opened again. Lexi and Jefferson came in laughing over some shared joke. Jillian had to admit they were a good-looking
couple. Over the past few weeks, Lexi had been giving her daily updates on their romance. Apparently, things were hot and
heavy.

She was in the midst of a love-a-thon.

Lexi and Jefferson came over and started chatting with Lily and Bill about the wedding. Evie got up and went back to work.
Jillian felt like a fifth wheel. She was about to leave when Lexi leaned over to whispered, “How you holding up?”

“Fine, fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I know how much you’re missing Tuck. I can imagine how I’d feel if Jefferson was in New York and I was stuck here.”

Jillian waved a hand. “Please, I’m fine.”

Lexi looked skeptical. “Are you sure? ’Cause if you want a girls night out, just you and me closing down the Rusty Nail, say
the word. I’m there for you.”

Jillian shook her head.

The bell over the door jangled a third time. Everyone looked over to see Sutter Godfrey cross the threshold, leaning heavily
on his cane but out of his wheelchair. The entire café clapped. “Way to walk it, Sutter,” Dutch called from the kitchen.

Sutter waved away the accolades. His eyes met Jillian’s.

“Ah,” he said. “Just the lady I wanted to see.”

W
HILE
S
UTTER
was dragging Jillian into the back room for a private conversation, Tuck was walking up 42nd Street. He’d been in Manhattan
for two weeks and he’d yet to pick up a carving tool. He hadn’t been able to work. The city noises kept him up at night. In
the day, he’d stare out the window at the building across from him, seeing in his mind’s eye Salvation Lake surrounded by
the Rocky Mountains.

He tried to work, but his creativity fled. The wood felt cold, dead in his hands. He’d stare at the wood, willing inspiration,
but nothing happened.

Stella Bagby’s apartment was spacious by New York standards and was only three blocks from the hustle and bustle of Time’s
Square. The city was alive, dusted with snow, Christmas lights winking, people carrying brightly colored shopping bags. He
used to love it here. The energy, the urgency, the audacity of the best city in the world.

But the Big Apple was no longer in his blood. His pulse didn’t skip, his breathing didn’t quicken, his mind didn’t rev as
he took it all in. His heart was still in Colorado.

He knew he looked out of place in his flannel, jeans, and work boots, but he didn’t care. He walked at a Colorado pace, people
zipping around him. He turned up Broadway, entered the throng of Times Square. He looked up at a theater marquis and saw to
his surprise there was a revival of
Les Miserables
. Immediately he thought of Jillian.

It was their favorite musical.

His chest tightened. He glanced at his watch. The matinee started in fifteen minutes.

He imagined Jillian with him. He pictured them snuggled together in the balcony seating, whispering the lines to each other;
they both knew the story so well. He wished he could share this with her.

“For old time’s sake,” he murmured, then walked up to the booth and bought a ticket.

W
HILE
T
UCK WAS WALKING
into
Les Miserables
, Jillian was sitting down across from Sutter in the back room of the Bluebird.

“What did you want to see me about?” she asked.

“I found this in a desk drawer at my home office,” he said, pulling a manila envelope from the inside of his jacket and sliding
it across the table to Jillian.

“You have a home office?”

“Didn’t I mention that?” His eyes twinkled.

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’ve been doing a good job, and I thought it was time to give you this,” he said as she removed the rubber band he’d wrapped
around the envelope.

A bonus? she wondered. Or maybe he’d drawn up papers to make her his partner. Her pulse accelerated.

“I’ve been getting community reports. Everyone likes you. Business has picked up, which I’m sure you know. Smart of me to
hire you.”

She didn’t mention that it had been her idea. She slit open the envelope with her finger, slid out the paper inside. Her breath
hung in her lungs when she saw what it was.

The deed to the lake house. Made out to Tuck.

She looked up to meet his gaze. “You found it.”

“I never lost it.” His eyes were sharp. The old man was not a fool.

“You had it all along. But why—”

“There’s a letter inside that envelope too.” He nodded. “I think you should read it now.”

She found the letter and opened it with trembling fingers. Even before she saw the familiar handwriting, she knew who it was
from, and hot tears caught in the back of her throat.

My dearest Jillian,

I write this letter to you after having just received news that I have an inoperable brain tumor. At most, I have six months
to live. You won’t be reading this until after my death, but I ask you, my dear friend, please don’t grieve. I’m with my darling
Aimee now. I couldn’t do right by her in life, but I feel with all my heart that in death we will be reunited.

You and I never talked about faith, and until I lost my daughter, I’m not sure I had much. I made many mistakes, hurt many
people. But you were the one shining star in my screwed up world. I turned you into my surrogate daughter, and I loved you
like a father.

I worry about you, Jillian. You’ve got such an emotional wall up. It’s necessary in our profession to detach, to distance
ourselves from the ugly world we deal in, but you’ve carried it too far. Whenever you do get involved with men, it’s those
wretched types like Alex Fredericks. I know you’re afraid to take a chance on an honest, kind man you could really love. I
don’t want you to make the same mistakes I made. I want you to be able to love freely, wholeheartedly, without reservation
or hesitation. To that end, I must confess to a bit of subterfuge, and my old friend Sutter has agreed to play along.

Right after Aimee died, I had Hamilton Green draw up a will giving you the lake house. It was always my intention for you
to have the place, but I figured that day would be a long time off. Today, the oncologist told me differently.

Even though you didn’t bring your problems to me, I knew you were having a crisis of conscience over your affair with Fredericks.
I also knew Tuck was grieving too hard and too long for Aimee. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him stay in the lake house. Maybe
if I’d pushed him, he would have started healing faster.

It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I realized you two were perfect for each other if you could only see it. Tuck
is a good and honest man. You are a smart, strong woman who deserves to be loved.

Therefore, I’m deeding the house to Tuck, but I’m having Sutter “forget” to file the deed and then “lose” it. My hope with
this little beyond-the-grave matchmaking is that Tuck will fight to stay in the house because of his ties to Aimee and you’ll
fight to keep it because you have nowhere else to go.

Yes, I knew Newsom was going to appoint Fredericks to take my place, and I knew the egotistical bastard would accept. I also
knew he’d try to force you to knuckle under and that you had too much integrity to take it. I hope you can forgive me if I’ve
caused you any distress. That was never my intention. The lake house is your life preserver, and Tuck can be your anchor if
you can learn to see your way clear to each other.

But even if it doesn’t work out between you two, I do know that you have found your way to Salvation.

With all my endearing love,

Blake

D
URING INTERMISSION
, Tuck wandered out into the lobby, his mind still on Jillian. He’d barely even noticed the actors on the stage.

A group of young tween girls were chatting avidly about the musical, but Tuck didn’t pay much attention to them—that is, until
he heard a familiar voice urging the girls to hurry and down their refreshments before the curtain went up on the final act.

His head jerked up, and he glanced over to see Aimee’s mother, Margery, ushering her charges toward their seats. Their eyes
met.

“Tuck,” she said, and broke into an instant smile. “I didn’t know you were back in Manhattan. Why didn’t you give me a call?”

Without even knowing he was going to say it, Tuck said, “I … I don’t know what I’m doing here, Margery.”

She looked around him. “You’re alone?”

“Yes.”

“Girls, go on back to your seats. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Giggling, the girls took off.

“Sorry,” Margery said, drawing closer to him. “Field trip.”

“You’re still teaching at Andover?”

“In a Manning building,” she said, referring to the classrooms he’d built in Albany. “I’m so happy you’re back. You’ve been
grieving too long. It’s time to share your gift with the world again.”

They stood in awkward silence, theater patrons pushing past them, headed back to the auditorium. She took his elbow and pulled
him out of the flow of traffic.

“I miss her, Margery.”

“I know you do, Tuck. I miss her, too, but you’ve got to move on. Are you dating anyone?”

He thought of Jillian, shook his head.

“Why not?”

“There was someone,” he said. “But I blew it. I …”

She squeezed his forearm. “Are you in love with this woman?”

Miserably, he nodded. “I tried not to fall in love with her. I felt like I was cheating on Aimee. I came to the city. I wanted
to start over, but …” He swept his hand at the theater. “I came here because she loves
Les Miz
like I do. I didn’t know they were having a revival.”

“Aimee hated
Les Miz
,” Margery said. “She hated musicals. Loved plays, though.”

“I know.”

Another awkward pause.

“Look, Tuck. You’re only thirty. You can spend the rest of your life grieving. If you’ve found someone, embrace it. Aimee
would understand. If the roles were reversed, you’d want her to find love again, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, yes, sure.”

“Okay, then.” Margery smiled softly. “I’ve got to get back to my girls, and you need to get back to … what’s her name?”

“Jillian Samuels.”

“Oh.” She sounded surprised. “Blake’s surrogate daughter?”

“You know about Jillian?”

Margery nodded. “I suppose there’s a kind of poetic justice to it.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Honey,” Margery said, “when you get to be my age, you realize how truly rare unconditional love is, and when you can find
it, you grab it with both hands. You have my blessings, and I believe you have Aimee’s as well.”

Tuck went back into the theater for the last act, but he couldn’t concentrate on the story. All he could do was think of Jillian
and how damned much he missed her. Margery was right. He was wrong.

How had he been so blind as to throw away love? It was such a rare and precious thing. He’d been damned lucky to have a second
chance at it, and he’d just walked away.