The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel (21 page)

Chas chuckled and said, “It’s worth considering. Thank you, as always. We won’t be late.”

“Have fun,” Polly said.

Dinner out proved to be a delightful experience, one that Chas would always cherish. Looking at Jackson across the table while they talked so much that their meal dragged on far longer than normal, she wondered how he could have changed her life so quickly, and how she had ever managed without him. She knew she’d been lonely, but she’d never been able to acknowledge just how much until now. Oh, how she dreaded having him leave! She wanted to beg him to stay for Christmas, but didn’t even want to bring it up.

They returned to the inn to find Polly and Granny playing Rummy. All of the expected guests had arrived and were settled into their rooms. The breakfast and cleaning schedules for the following day were all prepared, and everything was in order. Chas and Jackson sat to watch the end of the game and cheered when Granny won. Polly pretended to be hurt and went to bed. Jackson and Chas stayed when it was apparent Granny was still in a talkative mood. When she began to wind down and admitted to being tired, Jackson gave her a tight hug and a kiss on the forehead, something that had become a habit between them. Then she took his hand into both of hers and said, “You’re a fine young man, Jackson. It’s been so wonderful having you here. I hope that when you have to leave, you’ll always know that you can come back.”

“I
do
know that, Granny,” he said and kissed her brow again. “You sleep well, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She smiled and patted his hand.

Chas kissed Jackson goodnight at the foot of the stairs and thanked him for a wonderful evening. He kissed her again and went upstairs to read a little and go to sleep.

While Chas went through the usual routine of helping her grandmother get to bed and make certain she was comfortable, she thought of what a privilege it was to have this precious woman in her life. She recalled the tenderness between Granny and Jackson that had become habitual, and her gratitude deepened.

“What are you thinking about?” Granny asked as Chas sat on the edge of the bed to tuck the old woman in and kiss her according to years of habit.

“I was thinking how lucky I am to have been raised by you, and to be able to take care of you now.”

Granny squeezed her hand tightly. “I’m the lucky one, honey. You’ve been such a joy to me.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“I see a ‘but’ in your eyes, Granny. You can’t fool me.”

Granny patted her hand. “You need more in your life than an old woman to care for.”

“I have the inn, Granny. I’m very happy.”

“Happier lately, I’ve noticed.”

“You
are
a shrewd old woman, just like Jackson said.”

“Shrewd or not, listen to an old woman who sees more than you might think she does.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s something I need to say, and it’s important.”

“I’m listening,” Chas said, becoming especially alert.

“He loves you, Chas,” Granny said.

She felt only mildly surprised. Granny had seen them holding hands, and she knew that they were spending a great deal of time together, but their feelings for each other hadn’t actually been discussed.

Granny went on. “I’ve seen it in his eyes from the first time he sat down in this room. He loves you, my dear girl. Don’t let him go. Don’t let this opportunity pass you by.”

“We’re very different, Granny. He has a life far away from here, and you know I could never leave the inn. I love him too—and he knows it, but I don’t know if something permanent is possible.”

“Geographical differences can be worked out. They’re not so important in the grand scheme of things. You would have followed Martin anywhere. Would you really choose an old house over the love of a good man?” Chas honestly couldn’t answer that question. The house was stable, predictable; it wouldn’t die on her. For that and many more reasons, she doubted she could ever leave here. As if Granny could read her mind, she added, “He’s a good man. Don’t close your heart to him because you’re afraid of getting hurt again. Promise me.” Chas hesitated, and Granny insisted, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Chas said, knowing her heart was already a lot more open than it had been a few weeks ago. But she wondered if she had been steeling herself for an inevitable end to this relationship, as opposed to
truly
hoping that it could work out. Or perhaps she’d believed that the only way it could work out would be for Jackson to give up
his
life and come here. Whatever the case, Granny’s words struck her deeply and gave her much food for thought.

She kissed Granny again and told her how she loved her, then she went to her own room and pondered the situation and her feelings for a long time before she was actually able to sleep. She woke up with a determination to enjoy the present and not worry about the future, because there was so little she could do about it. And yet her underlying prayer was that Jackson would decide to retire and spend the rest of his life here with her.

* * * * *

Jackson was barely out of the shower and dressed when the phone on his bedside table rang. It took him a moment to get his bearings and pick it up, simply because he’d never heard it ring before.

“Hello,” he said.

“Jackson.” Chas sounded so upset that his heart immediately pumped with adrenaline.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“I need you. I’m in Granny’s room.”

That was all he needed to hear before he went down the stairs so fast he nearly fell twice. Entering the open doorway, he didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t to find Chas laying in the center of the bed on top of the covers, her arms wrapped tightly around her grandmother, who was beneath the covers, the top of her silver head barely showing.

“Is she ill?” he asked, crossing the room to stand beside the bed.

Chas looked up at him with red, watery eyes. “She’s dead.”

Jackson’s stomach tightened, and he went to his knees, instinctively putting his fingers to the old woman’s throat to check for a pulse. He knew he wouldn’t find it when he felt the temperature of her skin. It was cold enough that he knew she’d probably been dead for hours.

“You don’t have to check,” Chas said through an ongoing deluge of tears. “She’s obviously gone.”

“Sorry,” he explained. “Habit.”

Chas pulled her attention away from her grief long enough to consider the implication of his words. “You’ve found many dead bodies?”

“Far too many,” he said, then he touched Granny’s face with tender reverence, and his voice betrayed a rustle of emotion. “But they never looked like this. She looks so . . . at peace.”

“She is,” Chas said through copious tears. “Someone came to get her from the other side.”

Jackson met her eyes, but she could see more intrigue than skepticism. Not many weeks ago she felt certain it would have been the other way around. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Walter; my mother perhaps. Or her parents, or . . .” She let out an unexpected chuckle that seemed so out of place at the moment that she couldn’t hold back another.

“You’re laughing?” Jackson asked.

“I was just going to say . . . or maybe it was Charles Dickens.”

“Maybe,” Jackson said with a smirk, but it was a kind smirk. More seriously he asked, “And how do you know that someone came to get her?”

“I just know. They were still here when I came in the room and found her. I can’t explain how I know. I just know.” This brought on an explosion of tears, and she pressed her face into her grandmother’s hair and wept. Jackson felt helpless and too close to the grief to remain objective. He’d grown to love the old woman in the short time he’d been here. But even more so, he’d grown to love the woman grieving for this loss. And he didn’t know what to say. He’d lost count of the people he’d had to inform of the death of a loved one, and he’d witnessed all levels of grief. But he’d been detached, more concerned with watching for clues in their behavior. Now all he could see was the stark evidence of how much Chas loved this woman, who was the only mother Chas had ever known, the only real family she’d ever had. Jackson just held her hand and let her cry, shedding a few tears of his own. He thought of how the situation had been reversed from not so many days ago, when he’d been falling apart and she had held him together. He hoped that he had learned enough from her support of him at the time to be the strength that she needed and deserved, now that the tables had turned.

CHAPTER 13

Chas was amazed at Jackson’s efficiency as he informed Polly of what had happened. Then he started making necessary phone calls with just a little guidance from her, while Polly called Jen in for extra help. During the preparations for the funeral, as she dealt with the shock and grief of losing her grandmother, the inn ran efficiently with Chas hardly lifting a finger, and Jackson was never far away with an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on.

When Bishop Wegg and one of his counselors came to help with the funeral plans and offer any assistance they could, Chas noticed that they talked with Jackson for a long while after their business was completed. He told her later that he thought they were good men and he was impressed. He was also impressed with the visits from the Relief Society sisters, and with the help they offered.

Polly insisted that she was just going to bring some of her things and move into the room that was rented the least, and stay there for the time being. She didn’t want Chas to be alone, and they all knew it was better to have her there for many reasons. Having Polly under the roof to help keep the business under control was a tremendous blessing. And Chas had never before dealt with the issue of being romantically involved with a guest at the inn, but with her grandmother gone, she felt it was more appropriate to have someone else staying there, especially on nights when no other guests were there. She told Jackson it was more a matter of principle than any real concern, and he seemed to understand, even though he didn’t comment.

Jackson called his sister’s home and spoke to both her and his mother, telling them about Granny’s passing and everything that was going on related to it. His mother was down with a terrible cold; otherwise, she insisted, they would have come for the funeral. He assured her that there was no need to be concerned over that. She thanked him for calling, and the next day a beautiful floral arrangement arrived for Chas from his mother and sister. She called to personally thank them, and he noticed that she visited with his mother for more than an hour.

Two days after Chas had found her grandmother cold and unmoving, she felt no incentive whatsoever to get out of bed. She knew that her work would be taken care of, and she felt exhausted from all the tears she’d cried. She heard a knock at the door and forced herself close enough to reality to call, “Who is it?”

“It’s Jackson. Can I come in?”

“It’s not locked,” she called back and heard the door open, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

“I brought you some cocoa,” he said, and she heard the cup being set on the bedside table.

“Thank you,” she said and stuck her hand out from beneath the covers.

Jackson slid a chair next to the bed and sat where he could comfortably hold her hand. Chas squeezed it tightly and turned over enough to peer at him over the edge of the covers. “Why are you so good to me?”

“That’s like asking why I exist.” She raised a brow, and he added, “I just do.” He leaned closer and pushed her hair back off her face. “How are you . . . really?”

“I’m awful, as you can see.” She started to cry and couldn’t believe how endless the source of tears could be. “I don’t have any trouble with knowing it was her time to go. She was old and tired, and she’s in a better place with people she loves. I just . . . miss her. She’s all I had.”

Jackson pressed a hand to her face, wanting to tell her that she had him, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that he could sit here in the midst of her grief and make promises about a future that was still vague and uncertain.

Chas felt so lonely and starved for his company that she said without thinking, “Come closer. Hold me.”

Jackson had to lean back in the chair and put his strongest willpower in check to keep from immediately heeding her request. He
wanted
to hold her, all day and all night. He wanted to give her all his strength, anything that might help her get through this. But he needed to be rational.
One
of them had to be. Trying to keep it light, he said, “Now, that doesn’t sound like the woman I know. Inviting a man into her bed.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it’s not what you meant, but we both know it’s too close to the edge of a cliff. I may not see everything in life the way you do, but I’m smart enough to know that a person should never compromise their own rules—especially when they’re not thinking clearly. And no human being who is grieving should be making decisions that go contrary to their rules. You wouldn’t respect me if I actually got any closer than this right now.” He squeezed her hand to remind her that he was still holding it. He couldn’t tell if that was disappointment or respect in her eyes. He chose to think of it as respect, if only to aid his own convictions, then he lightened the mood. “Besides, what would Granny think if she knew you were breaking her rules already? What was it? All four feet on the floor? She’s probably in the room with us right now, making sure we mind our p’s and q’s.”

Chas laughed and then cried. “I thought you didn’t believe in angels.”

“I believe in Granny. And I believe in you. If you believe in angels, then I believe it, too. If anyone had the right to be an angel, it would be your grandmother. And if anyone had the right to be watched over by such an angel, it would be you.”

He saw new tears in her eyes, but there was more hope than despair in their glimmer. He touched her face and kissed her brow, then he leaned back in the chair, keeping hold of her hand.

“I’m so grateful you’re here,” she said.

“Well, it’s nice to be good for something for a change.”

“I need you.”

He squeezed her hand. “And I will be right here, holding your hand, for as long as you need me.”

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Chas said.

“Okay.” He leaned forward and kissed her hand.

“The night before Granny died . . . when I think about it now, it was like . . . she knew she was going. When I tucked her into bed, she said there was something important she needed to tell me. The more I think about it, the more important I think it must be.”

“Why?”

“It was about you.”

“Did she tell you to steer clear of me, that I was no good for you?”

Chas wasn’t affected by his attempt at humor, even if he had been at least partially serious. “No, quite the opposite, in fact.” She took a deep breath. “She told me that you love me.” Jackson raised his brows but didn’t comment. “Of course I already knew that. But I never told her that it had been spoken between us. And I have to know if you told her.”

“No.” He shook his head. “We talked a little about you, but it was never about our relationship.”

“She said she had seen it in your eyes the first time you walked into her room.”

Chas checked his expression for a reaction but found him more unreadable than usual. She hurried to get to the point. “I just wanted you to know what she said, and I need to tell you what else she said . . . about me. I just have to say it.”

“I’m listening,” he said when she didn’t say anything at all.

“She told me not to . . . close my heart . . . because I might be afraid of getting hurt again. She made me promise. I
did
promise. What else could I say? I’ve wondered how exactly to go about keeping my promise, and I’ve realized that I can’t do it alone. So, I want you to know that whether anything permanent comes of this or not, I want to learn how to open my heart. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I’m trying to say that . . .
you
told me a long time ago that I was afraid to feel. I’m telling you that you were right; you were both right. Maybe that’s why you came here . . . to teach me to open my heart again.”

Jackson studied her eyes for a long moment, then said, “I don’t think I could ever teach you a tenth of what you’ve taught me, Chas. I will never be the same . . . whatever happens. And for the record, I’ve seen your heart open a great deal since I said that. I recognize the signs, because I’ve felt the same thing happening to me. I
do
love you. Don’t ever forget it.”

“I love you too,” she said, but she still had to wonder if her opening heart might be broken when their lives took separate paths.

After a minute he said, “Granny
was
a shrewd old woman.”

“So I’ve heard,” Chas said.

He chuckled and shook his head. “She knew. She knew even before I knew.”

“Knew what?” she asked, if only to hear him say it.

“From that very first day, I just wanted to be in the same room with you. And she could see it. She knew that I was falling in love with you.” He laughed softly and added, “I wonder what else she knew that she didn’t tell us. Maybe she could have foreseen our future if we had bothered to ask.”

“She did mention something about that.”

“Really?”

“She told me that geographical differences could be worked out, that they weren’t so important in the grand scheme of things. She reminded me that I would have followed Martin anywhere, and she asked me if I would give up the love of a good man for an old house.”

Jackson let that sink in for a minute. “I could never ask that of you,” he insisted. “This is more than an old house. It would break my heart to see you leave all of this behind. I could never live with it.”

“But you have the work you love somewhere else; it’s
your
life.”

“It’s temporary, Chas.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. But neither of us knows at this point whether or not being together permanently is right. And neither of us should be worried about such things under the present circumstances. Let’s just get through the funeral and take it from there, okay?”

“Okay,” she said and sat up to drink her cocoa, terrified that once the funeral was over he would be gone and she would be left to face the holidays without her Granny. The thought seemed too much to bear.

* * * * *

The night before the funeral, Jackson found Chas sitting in her grandmother’s chair, wrapped in one of the little blankets that Granny had often had over her lap. He pulled a chair close to her and took her hand.

“I know you’ve heard it a hundred times,” she said, “but I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought she would get sick, or something. I thought I would have some warning that it was coming. I’m glad she
didn’t
get sick. It’s how every person wants to go, right? Just go to sleep and wake up on the other side? I’m glad for her. I just feel so . . . unprepared.”

“Your feelings are completely understandable, Chas, and you can repeat them to me as many times as you need to.”

She looked at him and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what I would have ever done without you. I’ve thanked God over and over for sending you here . . . now. I didn’t know it was her time to go, but God did, and He sent you to help me through.”

“Funny, I was certain he sent me here so that
you
could help
me
through.”

“It’s been eventful for both of us.”

“Yes, it has,” he said and kissed her hand.

Jackson watched her eyes take on the distant expression that had become typical in the days since Granny had left them. They had talked and cried together many times in between all of the preparations that had to be dealt with. But occasionally she just zoned out, and he allowed her the silence to try to accept this altered reality. He knew the feeling well, even if for him it had been less personal; more traumatic perhaps, but less personal.

When the silence dragged on longer than usual, he felt compelled to tell her something that he’d been meaning to for a couple of days, but the moment had never seemed right. Without preamble he said, “I’m staying for Christmas.” She turned toward him, her eyes showing surprise, then relief, then tears. “If that’s all right with you.” She threw her arms around him and cried.

Chas knew her tears in that moment were more from relief than sorrow. When she had calmed down, she looked at Jackson and said, “I just didn’t know how I could face Christmas without her when there’s so little time to get used to having her gone. Now I think I can actually look forward to it, instead of dreading it.”

“Me too,” he said.

“But I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t want you to stay because you feel sorry for me, or—”

“I’m staying because I want to be here—and because I know you need me. But it’s nice to feel needed.” His voice turned facetious. “And since you invited me to Thanksgiving dinner out of pity, I can stay for Christmas for the same reason. Even if that’s just a tiny bit of the reason.”

“I don’t care why you stay, just as long as you’re here.”

She kissed him and he said, “You’re going to be okay, Chas. I know you miss her, and you’ll probably never stop missing her. But you’re strong, and you’re going to spend your life in this home she left for you, honoring her legacy.” She nodded, and he kissed her again.

Jackson saw her zone out again and looked for something to say to distract her from her grief. “You know,” he said with some degree of exasperation, “the awkward thing about spending Christmas in someone else’s home is that they think they have to buy you gifts, and you wonder if you should buy them gifts. And nobody knows what to get, or how much to spend, and everybody’s worried and it’s just . . . awkward. So, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stay for Christmas if we can just . . . enjoy the holiday and forget the gifts. Although . . .”

“You’re reneging before you’ve even made the deal.”

He chuckled. “So I am. You’re as shrewd as your grandmother. I really would like to get you a gift. I just don’t know what to get. But I don’t want you to get me a gift, because just being here with you is gift enough.”

“Oh, no, you can’t do that. Fair is fair. Let’s just . . . set some rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yeah. One gift. Ten-dollar limit.”

“Deal,” he said, liking that idea thoroughly and immediately.

“That way it has to be either sentimental or silly, and either way it works.”

“Agreed,” he said.

The following morning they had breakfast as usual, except that Polly cooked it, and Chas was so somber that she didn’t say much. After they’d eaten they each went to their rooms to change their clothes. Jackson waited in the parlor for Chas, and looked up from his paper to see her dressed in black, looking beautiful and elegant—and very sad.