All the Waters of the Earth (Giving You ... #3) (28 page)

There was no way around it. It was
awkward
. Jake, who could talk about anything, was mainly reduced to one word answers about our flight, the hotel, the trip over, how we found the house. Rob didn’t say anything. I tried to talk, but found I had nothing to say.

Ugh
.

I resisted the urge to check my phone and see what time it was.  Now I was the one with the cell phone problem, not Jake.

Finally, we all left to go to a country club to join Jake’s stepdad for lunch.  A slight man, good-looking, wearing a nice tailored suit, he seemed quiet and introspective.  Not a flashy plastic surgeon.  And food became an icebreaker that was sorely needed.  Over sandwiches, Jake started talking with his siblings.  Shawn played community college football and talked with us about his studies.  Veronika studied ballet.  They exchanged phone numbers.  Jake was amiable, but I could see the tightness in his smile and the wariness in his eyes, especially when talking to his mom.

When we returned to their house, after we were all seated in the living room, he looked at his mother and said directly, “Mom, you asked me to come for a reason. What is it?”

She came over and sat across from him, crossing her legs at the ankles, elegantly, with the excited air of someone heady with good news. “I wanted to tell you in person, Jacob.”  She took a breath and looked dutifully sorrowful. “As you know, your grandparents, my parents, have both died.”

“I didn’t know that,” he interrupted. “I never met them. They never wanted anything to do with me.”

She kept her poise, pausing for a moment, then continued. “Your grandparents started a trust for their grandchildren when you were born. They never told me about it, and they never changed it. It was for you and Ethan.”

Jake stared at her.

“The lawyers contacted me right before I got in touch with you. There is a question about it, whether it is only for you, or whether it is for all of the grandchildren, meaning whether Shawn and Veronika are included as well.”

“So you’re asking me to—” Jake started.

“I’m not asking you to do anything right now,” she interrupted. “But we need to deal with this. It’s a lot of money.”

He stood up. “I don’t want it.  God, Mom.  I’d hoped it was something else.  I really did.  I wanted to meet my brother and sister.  But this?  God.  I’m blaming myself.”  He shook his head.  “Guess I’m crazy because while I knew it, I just knew it would be like this, I had this hope you’d be different, Mom.  A kid always wants his parents to want him.  But you never did, you just wanted money.  I’m glad to have met them.” Then he turned to me. “Lucy, Rob, let’s go. We’re done.”

“Wait!”

Jake’s mom stood in front of him, her hand pressed to his chest. He looked at her with a mixed expression on his face—a combination of pity, disgust, and pain.

“It’s always been the same with you,” he said in a low voice. “And you and Dad taught me well. From watching you, having to survive the way we did when I was a kid, I learned that money matters more than anything. More than happiness. More than family. More than love. Work, work, work, even doing something that you hate, because you need it to survive.”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but he put his hand up.

“You were wrong, though. I’ve learned a few things that matter more.” God bless him, he looked over at me. “And I’m not gonna take anything from people who were embarrassed that I exist. So no. Give me the disclaimer. I’ll sign. It’s theirs.” And he pointed to Shawn and Veronika, who looked chagrined. His mom started shaking her head.

“Son, don’t be rash. That’s not what I’m talking about. All I’m asking is that you consider splitting it with them. It’s all yours right now. We’re talking about enough money that you’d never have to work again. You could live comfortably for the rest of your life. I thought you’d be happy.”

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, feigning patience.

This was happening too quickly. While I understood his pain, I wanted him to not make a rash decision. He was reacting, he wasn’t thinking about it. And for someone who had been in fear of being poor for his whole life, to turn it down flat was a big decision. I wanted him to think about it, that’s all, and not just react because of his shitty history with his mother and her side of the family.

Veronika stood up. “Can I show Roberto where the Wii is?”

My son nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s a good idea,” I said. He didn’t need to be around this adult conversation.

“I’ll go play with him,” she said. “I rule at Mario Kart.” Rob followed her happily down a corridor.

Shawn looked at his mother, with a weird look on his face. “Mom, don’t you think you want to talk about this with Jake, by himself? Not in front of everyone?”

“But it’s something that affects all of you,” she started.

“Mom, we just met him.”

“We don’t have to talk about it right now—”

Suddenly, Jake interrupted. “My nose is bleeding. Can I use your restroom? I need a tissue.”

“It must be because it’s so dry here,” said his mother. “Do you get them often?” She pointed him to the bathroom.

“No,” he said, blood dripping into his palm. “I never get them.”

“Let me help you,” I offered, knowing full well that Jake didn’t need any help, but wanting to talk with him. I called back to her, “I’m going to make him sit down for a few minutes.”

We walked quickly down another corridor and ended up in a huge, plush bathroom, with a teak bench to sit on. Looking around at the oversized bathtub and separate shower, I thought that the square, LED-lit shower head, was particularly ostentatious, given the drought conditions. There’s not enough water around here for that kind of indulgence. I locked the door behind us.

“Sit. Squeeze the soft part of your nose,” I ordered, handing him a Kleenex. 

He obeyed, holding the tissue up to his nose, and sitting on the bench while I hovered over him. He started muttering, only partly to me, “I hoped it wouldn’t be like this.  It’s awful out there.  I can’t handle it.  Too many memories.  I guess I reacted that way because—”  He paused, took a deep breath, and kept talking.  There was pain in his voice, and he sounded funny, holding his nose as he talked. “You hope that your parents change. But they don’t.”

“No one changes if you ask them to.  People only change if they want to change and it comes from within.”

He looked at me and sighed. Then he nodded.

“I never get nosebleeds,” he said. “It’s so dry here. There’s no water. It’s like there’s no life. I couldn’t live here.”

It’s not like the watery, beachy views of Santa Barbara. Home. The place where Jake and I create.

“It’s pretty, though,” I said, feeling the need to acknowledge the dry majesty of the area. “I like the desert.”

“Some get inspired by it, I know,” he allowed, “but give me water any day.”  I handed him another tissue, throwing away his old one.  “I realize that I’m being completely stupid, but they didn’t want anything to do with me when they were alive. Why would I want anything to do with them when they’re dead? I just can’t accept it. I’ll give it to my siblings. They can buy another wing for this house.”

I sat down on the bench next to him and put my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, but think about it, okay? Just hold off until later this weekend. It could mean that you are set for the rest of your life.”

“What’s a workaholic going to do except work?”

I shrugged. “Maybe you want to find out.”

He looked so pathetic sitting there, holding a tissue to his nose, hunky as ever, but upset. I gave him a little nudge. “How are you doing?”

Shaking his head, he admitted, “Not good. Not good at all.”

“Mentally or physically?”

“Other than the nosebleed, which seems to be drying up, it’s all mental.” I got up, threw his tissue in the trash, and got him another one. His nosebleed seemed to have stopped.

Then I sat next to him, his warm body next to mine, just quiet.  Then he turned and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a big hug, saying “C’mere, you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”  I cuddled into his arms.

Then, as we were leaving the bathroom to rejoin the others, he turned to me and said, thoughtfully, “You know, I have an idea.”

“I’ll do it,” announced Jake, firmly but quietly, standing in the hallway. 

“Do what?” He didn’t seem angry now, or disappointed, like before. Instead, he looked calm, thoughtful, and determined. Taking my hand, he lightly traced a circle on the part of my hand between my thumb and index finger and bent down and kissed me lightly.

“Accept the money. And give equal shares to my siblings.”

“Great,” I said, whispering. Problem solved. I was confused, though. How did he resolve that so quickly, after he was pissed enough to want to fly back to California less than a half hour ago?

But then he took my other hand, drawing both of my hands gently behind my waist. And then he pulled me to him, holding me in the hallway, making me crick my neck to look up at his pretty face. His eyes were crinkling at me, and he looked at me very intently.

“Lucy, you don’t understand.”

I looked back at him, puzzled, not getting where he was going with this.

“I don’t want the money for me. I want it for our children.”

Involuntarily, my eyes widened, and I sputtered out a gasp. My stomach, already on a queasy, pregnant roller coaster, dipped. And I shivered, even though it was not cold. “
What
?”

“I don’t want to touch the money. I couldn’t do it. I can’t do it. No matter how much it is. Those people were not family to me, and I’m not going to accept it for me. But I could create a trust for our children. I’ll do it for our baby and Rob.  And if we have others.  I mean, we haven’t talked about that . . .” he trailed off.

Oh, sweet heavens.

There were no words.

I figured this out when I opened my mouth and then closed it again. Like a fish.

“I’m gonna give the money to our kids. I’m going to break the cycle. I’m going to pass it on to our children, with love, not with guilt, and I’m going to make sure that they have lots of attention from me.” He grinned. “And you.”

Suddenly, a tsunami of emotions flooded my body—relief, giddiness, happiness, wariness, wonderment, shock.

And intense love for this man.

Between this announcement and the pregnancy hormones, I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears, and he smiled and tugged me back into the bathroom, closing the door and sitting me back on the teak bench.

“Now it’s your turn for a tissue.” I nodded and took one gratefully. He sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders, resting his head on top of mine.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

And he kissed my tears and held me until I stopped shaking.

I’d learned before that Jake had a serious protective streak when he refused to see me, for the sole purpose of helping me with my court case. And I knew that his moral compass was set to true north because he refused to take a fortune that would make him feel inferior, or whatever it was that he was feeling. But I had also learned that he was caring, and this showed it. Ten fold.