All of You (19 page)

More feelings of guilt enveloped me. I felt
as if I could suffocate under the weight of all my guilt. Guilt for
not embracing life. Guilt for leading Lincoln on. Hell, I even felt
guilty for relying on Tabitha to make me happy. Maybe I needed to
call my therapist and schedule another session. It had been years
since I talked to someone, but it couldn’t be normal for one person
to have this many mixed-up feelings, could it? I made a mental note
to call for an appointment first thing on Monday, and with the hope
of my therapist being able to talk me through this, my tears
subsided and I fell asleep.

Chapter Thirteen

I texted Lincoln right before I knew he would
be taking the ice and wouldn't be able to check his phone. I told
him Tabitha was sick and we wouldn’t make it to the game. It was a
bald faced lie, but I didn’t have the energy to fake enthusiasm
over a game while in the middle of a crowd of people. I took
Tabitha grocery shopping and then for a short walk by the pier. It
was colder out today, and I didn’t want Tabitha to actually get
sick.

When we returned home I let Tabitha watch a
cartoon about a princess and the prince that rescues her. It made
me cringe and think of Lincoln. He was not going to be happy I
didn’t go to the game. He was leaving tonight for an away game and
wouldn’t be back until late tomorrow night. If I successfully
avoided him today, we wouldn’t have a chance to see each other
until I got off work Monday, but I hoped I could put him off longer
than that.

Rebecca came home from work and I made the
three of us a quick and easy dinner of sandwiches and soup. My
sister could tell I was upset.

“Didn’t Lincoln have a game today?” she
asked, and I nodded. “Did you watch it?”

I shook my head.

“Why not?”

I shrugged.

“What’s wrong?” Rebecca finally asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said
avoiding her eyes.

“How did last night go?” she asked and I just
shrugged my shoulders. “You weren’t out that late. I heard you come
home.”

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t. I was still awake.”

When it became obvious that I was not going
to divulge details about my night Rebecca tried again. “So you
don’t want to talk about it at all?”

I shook my head and picked at my food. After
a long pause, I finally spoke. “I’m going to call Dr. Raussman on
Monday,” I said quietly.

Rebecca immediately sat forward. She excused
Tabitha from the table and clasped my hand.

“What happened?” she asked with vivid
concern. Worry was written across my sister's face as she willed me
to tell her what prompted this. I pulled my hand free and slumped
down, curling myself inward.

“I just… don’t think I’m dealing with things
as well as I thought I was,” I admitted slowly.

Rebecca wasn’t about to let that go without
an explanation. “Why do you say that?”

I rested my forehead on the heel of my palm.
“I don’t like feeling this way. I’m confused, and I feel so guilty
about everything.”

“What are you feeling guilty about? Not about
dad?” Rebecca’s voice was laced with anxiety. My siblings and our
mother all suffered from survivor’s guilt over our father’s
death.

I shrugged. “Always. But it’s more than
that.”

“Jillian, I don’t understand,” she said, but
our conversation was interrupted when my phone chimed. Lincoln was
calling me. He must be done with his post-game duties. I ignored
it.

Rebecca looked between me and the phone with
confusion. “You aren’t going to answer?”

The phone silenced and immediately started
ringing again. I sat with my eyes closed, fighting the tears that
threatened to show on my face.

I heard Rebecca’s chair scrape on the floor,
and I opened my eyes. She had grabbed my phone and was about to
answer it.

“No! Rebecca!” I cried, but it was too late.
She swiped her finger across the screen of my phone and held it up
to her ear.

“Lincoln?” she said as she stared at me with
one eyebrow raised. “No, it’s Rebecca.” She paused. “Tabitha? She’s
fine.” Rebecca’s face was full of confusion.

I dropped my face into my hands as the tears
overflowed. I didn’t have words for the emotions that were inside
me. I was so confused. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt
Lincoln, but he had just discovered I had lied to him. “I don’t
know. She’s upset.” She paused, and I looked up at her. “She won’t
tell me.” She paused again and then held the phone out to me. “He
wants to talk to you.”

I shook my head, and Rebecca waved the phone
at me in a you-can’t-avoid-this motion. I took the phone from
Rebecca and held it up to my ear. “Hi…” I said and sniffed my
nose.

“Jillian… you’re scaring me. Please talk to
me,” Lincoln said through the phone.

I sniffed again. “I don’t know what to say,
Lincoln.” I wiped tears away with my free hand.

“I’m coming over.”

“No, Lincoln. I can’t handle this,” I
argued.

“Jillian. Please, baby.” His voice was full
of stress. “I don’t really understand what happened, but please
don’t give up.”

I couldn’t answer him. My throat was tight as
I tried to contain my sobs. Was I giving up? I didn’t want to, but
I didn’t think I had a choice. He would eventually discover what I
was hiding, and once he saw my ugliness he wouldn’t want me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Lincoln.
You... you just... you just deserve better than me,” I finally
stammered sadly into the phone. It wasn’t everything I should have
said to him, but I hoped he would understand.

There was silence over the phone for a moment
before Lincoln replied. “Jillian… how can you say that? You deserve
so much more than I could ever give you.”

“There are things you don’t know, Lincoln. I
can’t be everything you want.”

“Jillian, I don’t understand. I don’t
understand, baby.”

I knew he wanted to fix this, but he didn’t
know how, and neither did I.

“Please let me come over, baby. I need to see
you.” He paused and waited for my answer, but all I could do was
weep into the phone. “Princess… I can’t stand you crying and not
being able to do anything about it.”

Rebecca grabbed the phone from my hand, and I
looked up at her with surprise. “Lincoln, it’s Rebecca. Listen to
me. If you were EVER worthy of my sister, you will get your ass
here NOW.” She paused as Lincoln replied to her. “I know that’s
what she told you, but now I’m telling you—you need to be here.”
She paused again. “Good. See you soon.”

She hung up and set the phone down. She
rounded the table and pulled me into her arms and held me while I
let out my pain and confusion and cried against her shoulder
again.

After a moment, Rebecca pulled back and
looked me in the eye and wiped my tears away. “I’m just going to
say two things. First—I think you are right. You need to talk to
Dr. Raussman. Second—You need to realize you are not being fair to
Lincoln.”

“I know I’m not being fair to Lincoln,
Rebecca. That’s why I feel so guilty. I feel like I’m lying to him
every time he tells me I’m beautiful,” I admitted to her.

“Jillian. For such a smart girl, you can be
fairly stupid sometimes,” Rebecca said with a small laugh. “You ARE
beautiful. But you are not being fair to Lincoln if you think he
wants to be with you simply for your looks. You need to give him a
chance.” That’s what Lincoln had said to me too. I wanted to, but I
was sure of the inevitable outcome. “Now, go wash your face. He’ll
be here soon.”

Rebecca had taken Tabitha for some frozen
yogurt so Lincoln and I could have some privacy. I was pacing in
the front entryway when I heard a car door slam. I peeked out the
window and saw Lincoln jogging to the house. I opened the door
before he had a chance to knock on it. His face was etched with
anxiety and the familiar feeling of guilt bubbled up inside me. I
didn’t feel like I deserved his worry.

As he entered the house, his arms came out
and he pulled me into a big hug. He breathed my name as I wrapped
my arms around him and returned the hug. I inhaled his delicious
scent and tightened my arms. I had to tell him the truth. I
couldn’t stand to hurt him any longer. He pulled back from me
slightly and hooked one arm behind my knees. He carried me to the
couch and sat down on one end, holding me in his lap.

I rested against his chest, dreading our
inevitable conversation. “Can you tell me what’s going through that
beautiful head of yours?” Lincoln asked quietly into my ear, his
arms still around me. I sniffled. I really did not want to start
crying again. “Can you tell me why you would think I deserve better
than you? ’Cause from what I can see, it doesn’t get any better
than you.” His choice of words made me chuckle cynically.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry I freaked out
on your last night on the couch, Lincoln. That wasn’t fair to you,
and I should have been honest with you when you asked what was
wrong.”

“No, Jillian. That was my fault. I shouldn’t
have pushed you,” he argued.

“No, Lincoln. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I brought my hand up to his cheek. “You’re such a wonderful man. I
really don’t deserve you.”

“Jillian, if you do not stop saying that, I’m
going to get mad.”

I sighed and really looked him in the eye for
the first time tonight. He had worry lines around his eyes, and his
forehead was wrinkled with stress. “I’m not used to having someone
other than my family worry about me. I still find it hard to
believe that you do.”

Lincoln exhaled sharply and looked like he
was going to say something, but I moved my hand over his mouth.
“Please let me talk. No interrupting.”

He nodded, and I removed my hand. “I’m going
to tell you the truth, and I need to you let me say it all before
you say anything.” Lincoln nodded again, encouraging me to open up
to him. “Okay. You know my dad died in a fire, right?” He nodded
again. “What I should have told you…” I swallowed hard. God, this
was difficult.

He rubbed my back trying to comfort me.
“Lincoln, you have to understand. What I’m about to tell you I’ve
never talked about with anyone outside my family other than my
doctors.”

His eyebrows flew up in surprise. He
apparently didn’t realize the extent of my issues. And that in
itself was part of the problem.

I swallowed again and looked down at my hands
and wringed my fingers with worry. “What I should have told you is
that my dad wasn’t the only one home during the fire.” Lincoln
froze. “My dad worked overnights in a factory. He would sleep
during the day in the basement because it was dark and quiet. That
day, my mom was at work, and my brothers and sisters were at
school. I had stayed home sick and was asleep in my bed upstairs.”
I paused and wiped my silent tears away. “I remember waking up
confused and staring at my pink bed sheets. I remember wondering
why the smoke detector was going off, and I remember looking around
my room and wondering why it was filled with smoke.”

Lincoln’s grip on me tightened, and he
whispered my name but I continued with my story. “The doctors told
me later that I was probably confused from smoke inhalation.
Otherwise I would have known better than to try to leave my
bedroom. The fire had started in the basement. They said my dad
probably had a space heater running, and it overheated causing the
fire. By the time I woke up, he was probably already dead.” I
paused to collect myself.

“Oh God, baby,” Lincoln whispered. He rested
his forehead on my shoulder and moved his hand in circles on my
back.

“Let me finish,” I said, and Lincoln stopped
and brought his head back up to look at me. It was hard remembering
my father; I missed him every day. But Lincoln needed to hear the
rest. “I remember looking down the hallway and just seeing smoke
and an orange glow. I didn’t even think about my dad being
downstairs. I just wanted to get out. I started trying to crawl
toward the back door, and the last thing I remember was feeling a
burning pain.” As difficult as it was to relive this story, the
hardest part was coming up. “The doctors told my mom when the
firefighters found me I was covered in plastic from the kitchen
countertop that had melted and fallen on me. They saved me, but my
dad never had a chance.”

Lincoln pulled me into a hug and repeated my
name over and over. “Were you… burned?”

I pulled back from his hug and nodded,
looking down. “The worst part is if I’d had the sense to stay in my
bedroom, I probably wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“Tell me, Jillian,” he insisted.

I took several deep breaths and exhaled
slowly. “I had third-degree burns on twenty-five percent of my
body. I spent five months in the hospital. I had three skin graft
procedures before I turned eighteen, but they couldn’t fix all the
scars.”

“Where?” he asked.

I splayed my left hand over my left hip and
my right clutched at my stomach. He covered my hands with his.

“Here?” he asked, tipping his head to the
side to look at my face. I nodded while looking down with shame. He
brought a hand up while still grasping my hip with the other.
Tilting my face up with a finger under my chin, he looked me in the
eye. “This is why you think I deserve better than you?”

I wrenched my chin away from him and
struggled out of his lap. Standing, I went to the opposite corner
of the room and hugged myself. Lincoln came up behind me. He
grabbed my elbow and turned me to face him. He rubbed the tears off
my cheeks with this thumb and looked down at me with
compassion.

“I can’t be what you deserve, Lincoln. You
deserve someone who is beautiful and sexy and strong, and I’m none
of those things, and you deserve better,” I rambled.

Lincoln cupped my face with his hands. “You
are all those things, Jillian.” He paused and my tears fell
faster.