Smoky Mountain Dreams (53 page)

And he was so generous to you, so
giving, when he could have been angry. It could have been over then and it
would’ve been justified. Where’s your generosity now, Jesse?

The voice in his head was Marcy’s, and he squeezed his eyes
closed, trying to push it away, to not hear her as clearly as he had when she
was alive and standing beside him.

It was a long, lonely, angry twenty minutes before Amanda
walked into the room. She saw him across the way and lifted her hand, her smile
disappearing as she neared.

“Uh-oh. I know that look. What have you done?” she asked by
way of greeting, shifting into the booth and pushing her green Coach purse off
to the side.

“I didn’t do anything. He’s the one who did something he
shouldn’t have.” The anger was easy to claim. The guilt wasn’t.

“Uh-huh. And what was that? Unless you say he’s been seeing
someone else, I’m going to probably think you’re the one in the wrong here.
Just a heads up.”

Jesse glared at her before turning back to picking apart the
paper coaster the waitress had placed under his bourbon and coke. That had been
after he’d done two shots. He wasn’t fooling around tonight.

He knew Amanda was certain Christopher was the perfect man
for Jesse, and she’d suggested more than once that Jesse propose for Christmas.
The suggestion had seemed laughable when it was only because it was too fast.
Now it seemed like a horrible joke to taunt Jesse with visions of a future he’d
probably blown.

“I need you to text Nova. Tell her she’s got to keep the
kids tonight,” Jesse said.

“Because you’re going to his place to beg forgiveness and
have makeup sex?”

“No, because I’m going to drink at least three more of
these, and you’ll have to drive me home and put me to bed.”

Amanda sighed, pulled out her phone, and tapped in a
message. She waited, nodded, and said, “Nova said okay, but you know they’ll
want to know why tomorrow. She sent a worried-face emoji. I think Will taught
her how to use those.”

“It’s none of their business.”

“Oh, yes, of course. ‘Do me a favor, in-laws, and keep my
kids.’ ‘Sure, but why, Jesse?’ ‘It’s none of your business.’ Of course. That’s
totally how that works.”

Jesse rolled his eyes and took a long swallow, the shots and
bourbon rolling through him, hot like his anger. “He fucking went to see her.”

“Went to see who?”

Jesse gave her a long look.

“Ohhh. He went to see Marcy.” She frowned. “How did he get
in? He’s not on the list.”

“He posed as a volunteer singer filling in for a friend of
his who couldn’t make it for the carol sing-a-long.”

Amanda’s frown deepened. “Posed? Or he actually
was
a volunteer singer filling in for his friend?”

Jesse groaned and wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead.
He felt like crying, but he took another swallow of his drink. “Actually was, I
guess.”

“I see,” Amanda said primly. She lifted her hand and snapped
toward the bar, trying to get the waitress’s attention. “Let’s get drunk then,
shall we? Really good and drunk since you’ve clearly
blown
it
with the best guy you’ve ever dated. The guy who’s made you the
happiest you’d been
in years
—all because he was
helping out a friend. That’s awesome. I think we need to toast to that.”

“Fuck you, Amanda.”

“This
is
why you texted me, didn’t
you? I mean, surely you weren’t expecting sympathy?”

“No…I knew what you’d say.”

“Then you must’ve wanted to hear it.”

The waitress stopped by the table and Amanda placed an order
for a Negroni before calling her husband. “Yes, I’ll call if I need you to come
pick us up, darling,” she said. “I won’t drive drunk. Scout’s honor.” She hung
up and sipped the newly delivered cocktail. “You’ve got Paul worried that I’m
going to get rip-roaring drunk and slam into a mountain.” She narrowed her eyes
at Jesse. “And yes, I can say hideous, callous things like that as your sister.
We’ll just have another drink to cover the pain of it.”

Jesse sighed and rubbed his hands into his hair. “He had no
business being there.”

“Well, it sounded like he was doing a favor for a friend.”

“Then what was he doing in her room?”

“You know as well as I do that all the banjo pickers, book
readers, and even damn tap dancers get sent around to all the rooms after the
main performance. But even if there was some other reason he was in her room—
even
if he was there solely to see her—can you really
blame him?”

“Hell yeah, I can blame him. She’s not his concern. She’s
nothing to him.”

“Oh please, big dumb brother of mine. She’s the woman his
boyfriend is married to! She’s the mother of the kids he’s undoubtedly falling
in love with, because of course he is! My niece and nephew are nothing if not
lovable.”

Jesse shook his head. He wasn’t going to go into the kids.
Not right now. And yes, the entertainment volunteers went around to the all the
rooms, but… He stubbornly took another drink. This was different.

“In other words, Jesse, Marcy is totally his concern! If the
laws of this state changed and the possibility that the two of you could
legally marry came up, she’s the reason that wouldn’t happen. She’s the woman
you still love, even if you weren’t
in
love anymore.
She’s the reason you go to Sevierville on Thursdays, and the reason you might
enter into another court fight—which, if you did, your boyfriend would
definitely be impacted by! She’s the woman in the pictures in your hallway, the
woman who drives so much of who you are and what you do! The mystery of her
must plague him, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you be curious, Jesse? If it was
reversed, wouldn’t you want to see her? Wouldn’t you want to know?”

Yes. I’m a total dick, aren’t I?
Still,
he shrugged a shoulder. “He could have asked me.”

“Would you have taken him?”

“No! She wouldn’t
want
to be seen
that way! Not by anyone. It’s not even her, Amanda. It’s not even Marcy there
in that bed.”

“Then why can’t he see the body?”

“Because she’d hate it!”

“You hate it.”

He swallowed thickly. “I do. I hate him seeing her like
that. He shouldn’t know. He shouldn’t think of her as anything other than how I’ve
described her to him. He should only think of the photos I’ve shown him.”

Amanda tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because if she was truly dead that’s how it would be,
wouldn’t it? That’s dignity. Seeing her like that? It’s…not worthy of her. Not
worthy of who she was.”

“Oh, Jesse.”

They drank in silence for a while. Jesse’s heart ached so
badly that as the alcohol loosened his hold on the present, the past slipped
in, and he felt the clutches of grief digging in its claws, the familiar,
unbearable sensation taking his breath away and reducing him to almost crying
into his drink.

“You have
got
to stop denying
reality, Jesse,” Amanda said quietly. “You can’t keep this separate. Either you
have to let her go completely and devote yourself to building something new
with Christopher, or you have to give him some ownership in it too. He can’t be
your escape from your ‘real life’ as Marcy’s husband.”

“That’s not my real life. That’s my fucking nightmare, and
he shouldn’t be part of it.”

“Maybe he’d help you turn that nightmare into something more
bearable if you let him.”

“Oh, fuck that, Marcy.”

Amanda’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Jesse bit his cheek, a wild panic swelling in him as he
realized he’d called his sister by his wife’s name. “Nothing.” He gulped the
rest of his drink and waved for another.

“Was that… Did that sound like something Marcy would say?”
she asked gently.

Jesse swallowed down snot that was clogging his throat as he
fought to keep from crying in a stupid sports bar. And,
fuck
him
, that goddamn old song came on again, “The Rose” by Bette Midler,
and he quivered with rage as the pain of it sliced into him. Love surviving
winter. New love coming after weathering the loss of the old. “Fuck you,” he
whispered to no one, to everyone, to the God Ronnie believed in who might
somehow be responsible for the bar’s dated soundtrack choices.

“Well, Marcy never let you get away with bullshit, did she?
So, if I was channeling her, then I’ll consider it a compliment.”

“I just want to be angry with him. Why won’t you let me be
angry?”

“Well, you called the wrong person for that, big brother.
You should’ve called… hmm, I’m not sure who you could’ve called for that. Since
what you’re being is a massive douche.” Amanda finished her Negroni and
motioned for the waitress to bring another. “It looks like you’re stuck with
me.”

Jesse wished Christopher was sitting across from him. He
thought Christopher would probably know what to say to make him not so fucking
hurt and angry. Only this time, it was Christopher who’d hurt him.

Or maybe it was time to admit he’d been the one to really
hurt Christopher and himself.

 “Looks like my stalker is here.” Christopher sighed
and nodded at a figure breaking out of the crowd and heading for where he sat
with Holly in a booth in the back of the Christmas-festooned Three Jimmy’s. He’d
convinced Holly to meet him there because it was off the main drag, and he’d
never been there with Jesse.

Christopher’s eyes still burned and felt puffy from the
tears of hurt rage he’d allowed himself earlier in the day. He swallowed down a
massive gulp of his gin and tonic. After the fight with Jesse, he wanted
nothing more than to be drunk as hell. “Strange how the tides turn, isn’t it?”

Gareth approached with a swagger, and as he drew closer,
Christopher asked Holly through gritted teeth, “Did you send him a text that
Jesse dumped me or something?” Though he wasn’t even sure Jesse
had
dumped him. Had he? It had all happened so fast.

Holly glared. “No. I get that you’re not interested in
Gareth, okay? I’ve tried to shut him down, but he’s just
that
into you. Unlike your rich ex-boyfriend, apparently.”

That was all she had time to say, because Gareth was there,
sliding into the booth beside Christopher, an expression of concern on his
face.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice vibrating with kindness and
worry. “I saw you over here looking so fuckin’ sad. I can’t have that, now can
I? You all right?”

Christopher wanted to ask what business it was of his and
send him packing, but it was nice to feel like someone cared. He’d tried to
call Gran, but she hadn’t answered her cell phone, which was worrisome but not
too unusual since she often turned it off and forgot to turn it back on.

Gareth brushed Christopher’s hair back from his forehead and
then looked to Holly when Christopher just took another drink of his gin and
tonic.

“He’s getting drunk,” Holly said. “And I’m getting out of
here.” She stood and grabbed her blue jean purse, throwing it over her arm. “Make
sure he gets home okay.” She fixed Christopher with a meaningful look. “I’m
sorry. I just don’t get you sometimes. Or maybe I’m jealous. I don’t know, but
you deserve better than someone who dumps you because you volunteered to sing
at a nursing home.” Then she turned on her heel and left him with a very
confused-looking Gareth.

“That true?” Gareth asked, and Christopher could hear the
underscore of hope in his tone. Christopher knew he should shut that down
immediately, but part of him thrilled to Gareth’s continued interest,
especially in the face of his new hurt.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he actually said he was
breaking up with me, but maybe he did.” Christopher rubbed his hand over his
eyes.

“You should ask him.”

“I figured I’d give him a day to calm down.”

“Hmmph.” Gareth motioned for a waitress and ordered a light
beer, which made Christopher snort a little, remembering how Jesse had put back
drinks at Puckers the night the truth of Marcy had come out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gareth asked.

“I don’t know. It’s a long story.”

How would he ever explain the situation with Marcy? He didn’t
know where to start. He supposed this must have been how Jesse felt on their
first date when he’d realized that Christopher didn’t know about the accident.
But Gareth had lived here a long time. Maybe he already knew.

“He had…well, he
has
a wife.”

“Yeah,” Gareth said, his lips turning down at the corners. “Her
folks used to buy firewood from me and my dad in the fall.”

“Yeah?”

“They stopped buying from us a few years after she got hurt,
but before that Dad and I’d take a few cords of wood there for ‘em, and Nova
would always chat with us a while about Dad’s turkeys. She tipped nice too.”

 “You knew her, then? Marcy, I mean, not Nova.” He felt a
shot of excitement. This was someone he could ask about her and not feel
guilty.