Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One (9 page)

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 of 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
since I found out.

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.”

Any
progress we had made up to that point was blown out of the water. It felt like
all the eggs had cracked all at once and we were sliding around in the mess of
it all. We barely spoke to one another in the coming days, and to add insult to
injury, Mother’s Day was the following weekend. It was a day I had been
dreading, and our blow-up had made it worse. I don’t think I had ever felt so
lonely.

I
did myself a favor and skipped church. I decided I needed to get out of town
and think on my own. I even turned my cell phone off. I didn’t want anyone
calling me and feeling sorry for me. I packed a cooler and my camera and headed
out early. Blake was already in his shop when I set out. I didn’t bother saying
goodbye. Communication was at an all-time low between us. The only talking that
could be heard in our house as of late was either taking place on the
television or Blake talking to Madeline. Every night I could hear him upstairs
talking to her on his phone.

I
think it was the most I had ever heard him speak. He sounded so happy and
carefree when he spoke to her. It was the way he should be.

I
headed up the 285 and caught Highway 50. I wasn’t sure where I was going. My
only goal was to be as far away from Merryton as I could get for the day.
Merryton was anything but merry for me at the moment. Blake and I were hanging
on by a thread, my mother seemed upset with me because I wasn’t happy that
Madeline was staying with us for the summer, and Cheyenne and Abby were torn.
Cheyenne was ready to castrate Blake, and Abby was trying her best to help me
see how this could all be a positive thing.

Let’s
not forget about how I felt about myself. I wanted to be freaking Maria von
Trapp, but I felt more like Cruella de Vil.

My
first stop was on the summit of Monarch Pass. There were still pockets of snow
on the mountains and it made for some pretty pictures of the columbines peeking
out through the frozen precipitation. I was always amazed how delicate things
could survive such harsh conditions. If only I could be more resilient.

After
my first stop, I made my way through Gunnison and to the Blue Mesa. I took
another break there and sat on the shore of the reservoir and watched the small
waves wash up against the shoreline. I watched as families gathered together to
celebrate their moms. It made me miss mine. I suddenly felt selfish for not
spending the day with the woman that made my life possible. I was consumed with
myself lately, and angry - angry at God, angry at the world, and angry at the
unfairness of life.

I
got in my Tahoe and bawled and bawled as I wended my way through the canyon and
toward Montrose, my stopping place for the day. There was an entrance to the
Black Canyon not too far from there. The Black Canyon had several overlooks
where you could stop and take pictures and read more about the history of the
area.

I
had always been fascinated with canyons. I had always been impressed with what Mother
Nature could design and with the amazing power of water. Water was an enigma to
me. It was the giver of life and sometimes death; so necessary, but so
destructive.

I
got several great shots of nature, including terrific ones of a bald eagle and
even a black bear. I was in my car for the bear sighting, thankfully. I had
never seen one in the wild. It both frightened and excited me.

I
headed into Montrose to gas up and get a very large Dr. Pepper before I drove
the four hours back to Merryton. I liked Montrose—it reminded me of Merryton in
both size and beauty. It, too, was in a valley and graced by mountains. Even
better, no one knew me there.

By
the time I pulled into Merryton it was dark, but that didn’t stop me from
making my way to the cemetery. It only seemed right. I could consider myself a
mother, right? I always grappled with that thought.

In
the late evening hours I sat at my son’s grave and thought back to the previous
Mother’s Day. It was a much happier occasion. We had barely started to be able
to feel him kick on the outside. He packed quite the punch. When Blake and I
were home together he was never far, and his hand could frequently be found
against my bare abdomen. Neither of us tired of feeling Carter move inside me.
I could still remember how it felt, and I ached for it.

I
drove home slowly to an empty house. I had no idea where Blake would be at ten
at night on a Sunday, but I was tired and didn’t put much thought into it. That
is, I didn’t put much thought into it until he came crashing through our
bedroom door a half-hour later. I knew he was upset from the onset—his eyes
were ablaze—but I didn’t know why.

In
just a few long strides he was by my side. He dropped to his knees and laid his
head on my midsection and wrapped his arms around me. He was shaking.

Without
thinking I reached out and stroked his hair. “Blake, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jessica,
where the hell have you been?”

“I
spent the day driving and taking pictures.”

“Why
didn’t you answer your phone? I’ve been sick with worry. And so is everyone
else now.” He clung to me even tighter.

“I’m
sorry. I turned my phone off, but there was no need to worry. I needed to be by
myself.”

“Next
time tell someone. Your parents and Cheyenne and Abby are beside themselves. I
was about ready to call the police.”

“Okay.
I honestly didn’t think you would notice.”

His
phone rang. He immediately sat up and answered it. “She’s here,” he said.
“She’s fine. She was out taking pictures. I’ll have her call you in the
morning,” he said before he hung up. He looked up at me and I saw a mixture of
fear and anger in his eyes.

I
bit my lip nervously. “I really didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“That
was your dad. You need to call your parents in the morning.”

I
nodded.

“Don’t
ever do that to me again,” he scolded me like a parent of a child that had just
run out in front of a car. He turned quickly and walked out, quietly shutting
the door behind him.

I
sat up all the way in bed, stunned. I had no idea my innocent act of taking a
day to get away would cause such a stir. It added to my ever-increasing guilt.
I felt like I couldn’t get anything right lately, at least not any of the most
important things. I got out of bed and retrieved my cell phone. Within the
seconds it took for it to come back on I was inundated with the beeping and
buzzing that let me know I had a plethora of texts and voicemails. They were
mostly from Blake.

I
began to listen to the voice messages. They started off with the annoyance of
just wondering where I was, but as time went on they became desperate pleas for
me to call him. He wasn’t only worried something had happened to me, he was
worried that I had left him. Every message was a plea for me to either be safe
or for me to come home. The emotion in his voice was gut-wrenching. The last,
“I love you,” tore at my heart. 

Interspersed
between his calls were calls from my parents and best friends. They, too, were
frantic.

I
quickly sent texts to Cheyenne and Abby. I’m sure Blake had called them and
told them I was fine, but I wanted to apologize. I would call both them and my
parents in the morning. It was much too late now, and I needed to talk to
Blake. I had no idea he would react in such a way. I should have left a note or
gone out to the shop this morning and told him, but I let my hurt and pride get
in the way.

I
slowly crept out of my room and into the darkened great room. I was planning to
head upstairs to where Blake now slept, but I noticed a dark silhouette sitting
on the couch leaning forward with his face in his hands.

I
felt lower than dust.

I
carefully approached him. He remained still and didn’t acknowledge my presence.

I
sat in front of him on the shaggy area rug. For a moment I didn’t say anything.
I kept waiting for him to look up. I wanted him to see in my eyes how truly
sorry I was when I verbally apologized to him. “Blake,” I whispered.

He
barely raised his head, but at least our eyes met.

In
the dim light I could see the telltale mark of red eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He
didn’t respond to my apology.

I
knew sorry was inadequate for what I had unknowingly put him through. “I
wouldn’t leave you without telling you first.”

He
straightened up some. Now I had to look up at him. “Are you going to leave me?”
he asked.

“I’ve
been thinking maybe I should go stay with my parents. It’s not fair to bring
Madeline here with the way things are between us. With the way I am,” I added quietly,
embarrassed.

“What
do you mean ‘the way you are’?”

“I’m
a mess, Blake. I’m not good for anybody right now, especially you.” I let the
tears fall down my cheek as I watched him process my words.

His
eyes never left mine, but I knew he was lost in his thoughts as he paused to
speak. “Jess, we can work this out. Leaving isn’t the answer.”

“You
sound like my mother.”

“She’s
a smart woman.”

“What
if she’s wrong? What if we’re wrong? Things are only getting worse between us.”

He
slid down the couch and joined me on the floor. “All I know is for the last
several hours I felt the weight of the world come crashing down around me.
Losing you isn’t an option for me.”

“Blake,
I’m so lost, I can’t even find myself right now.”

Almost
hesitantly he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me onto his lap. I couldn’t
remember the last we were this close. At first I was stiff, but as he rubbed my
back I curled up into him and sobbed against his flannel shirt that smelled
like musk.

I
don’t know how long we sat there on the floor against the couch not saying a
word; it seemed like at least an hour. The only muffled sounds came from me
against Blake’s chest. His shirt was now soaked. I wondered if I would ever run
out of tears.

Once
the sobbing stopped and just the intermittent tears remained, Blake asked out
of the blue, “Remember the first day we met?”

I
smiled at the thought. I nodded my head against his chest. Speaking required
too much energy at that moment.

“I
don’t know if I ever told you, but I had been watching you for days as you ate
your lunch and read your book out by the lake. Every day I looked forward to
you taking off that hideous beret they made you wear and watching your hair
fall down. And watching you make all sorts of faces while you read your book.”

I
smiled again, thinking about the ridiculous uniform I had to wear and my time
spent out by that glorious lake, and because I hadn’t been making faces at my
book. The faces came because I was listening to him. He was a perfectionist,
and the guys on his crew were definitely not living up to his expectations.
They had constructed a gazebo that sat on the lake just off the pier. It looked
perfect to me, but Blake found every flaw. He was particularly miffed about the
paint job. I had been watching him scrape paint and touch up the others’ mistakes,
among other things.

“Even
from a distance,” he continued, “I knew beyond being beautiful, there was
something about you. You possessed this self-assurance that I was even more
attracted to. And then came the day when I was paying more attention to you
than the task before me and I sliced my hand with the paint scraper. You came
to my aid without a second thought. The blood didn’t even bother you. You took
command of the situation by cleaning it and applying pressure, even if it was
with my favorite shirt.”

“I
asked you first if it was okay,” I said in my defense.

“Yes,
you did.”

I
could hear the smile in his voice.

“Then
with that same confidence you let me know how much you disapproved of my first-aid
skills.”

I
shook my head. “Super glue isn’t meant for human skin.”

“I
suppose not, but you still helped me apply it.”

“Only
because you refused to go to urgent care and I didn’t want you getting super
glue inside the wound.”

“I
appreciated that. But then, just like that, you walked away and, like an idiot,
I watched you go. I kept telling myself to call after you, or hell, even get
your name, but I didn’t. I let you walk away. I stood there, beating myself up
about it, but I still didn’t act. I tried going back to work, but I couldn’t
get you off my mind. I told myself if by any chance you came back, I wouldn’t
let you slip away without at least asking you what your name was and what your
plans were for the rest of your life. And then you came back bearing bandages and
antibiotic spray.”

“But
you only asked me to dinner.” Which is what I had hoped for when I came back.

“I
decided that was less threatening.”

“Good
thinking.”

“Tonight,
I felt the same way. I decided if you came back, I wouldn’t let you slip away.
Just tell me what you want.”

“That’s
the problem. I can’t have what I want. What I want died, literally. And I feel
like part of me died right along with him.”