Second Chances (3 page)

“Jo, light a fire!” Jilly said as she bustled past with a tray of drinks. “Three top outside!”

I kept myself busy until late afternoon, but when a lull fell a restless energy began to creep back into my thoughts, and I knew I had to pull myself together. No matter how very much I wanted to be on the road to Oklahoma, I was realistic enough to know I'd be exhausted if I left now. I needed a good night's sleep, or as much of one as I could manage at this point, and then I'd leave at dawn. Right now I had a road map and a feverish desire to get moving south on I-35.

“Jo, sit with me awhile,” Gran ordered, from her seat at one of our porch tables. The café was nearly empty of customers, the sun slanting over the lake on its westward descent. I braced my tray against one hip and slung upon it the bar towel I'd been using to wipe down a tabletop. I obeyed without question, sitting with a sigh. The air was thick with humidity and sweat was skimming between my breasts and collecting along my hairline. I brushed at loose strands and then braced my elbows, meeting my grandmother's direct hazel eyes. Her face was stern, and dear, dearer to me than nearly any other in my life. I knew if I were to look back at pictures of her from my childhood she would look much younger, but it seemed somehow as though she never changed. Her entire face was shaded under the brim of her straw hat, her knobby knuckles curled around a mug of coffee, even in this heat.

“You be careful down there,” Gran said, as though I was heading into a war zone. I knew she really meant
be careful of your heart
.

“I will, Gran, I promise.” My voice sounded more sure than I felt.

“You remind me so much of myself at your age, Joelle,” she said then, surprising me. She'd said many times how she thought I resembled Mom, but I knew again that she wasn't referring to looks right now. “Even though Minnie was older than me, I always felt like the older sister. The one who noticed things, protected people. That's you, Joey. I admire you for going after young Blythe. But I worry about you. You have so much to be responsible for.”

I dropped my gaze first to the tabletop and then let it skim out over the lake, glistening like a living creature in the sunlight. I closed my eyes then, seeing the same scene superimposed upon my inner eyelids, this time painted over in oranges and reds. Finally I whispered, “I would never think of putting them second, Gran, you know I wouldn't.”

“I know that,” Gran said, again with uncharacteristic softness in her voice. “But I watched how Blythe looked at you all summer, lovesick like I've never seen. You two thought you were hiding things so well, but I knew, and your sister knew. Joanie…well, I'm not sure she knows yet.”

I giggled a little. “Mom still thinks I should be with Jackson, even though she won't admit it.”

Gran snorted, sounding more like herself. She drew a long sip from her mug and then said, “I love my daughter, but she wears blinders when it comes to certain things.”

The sound of the porch door swinging open halted our conversation, and I turned on one elbow to see Jilly coming out, a tub of silverware that needed rolling in her arms. She joined us with a huff of breath and asked, “Jo, you don't mind getting this tub rolled before you call it quits for the night, do you?”

“You know I don't,” I returned, and turned to the mindless task. “And I did plan to help ‘til close, you know.”

“Good deal,” my sister said.

And I did, keeping my thoughts focused with effort, attempting to enjoy the gorgeous evening that settled over the café. The intensity of the heat fizzled out by 8:00 in the evening and the air was totally static, lending Flickertail Lake a smooth, glass-like serenity. The western sky blazed with colors reminiscent of the inner curve of a seashell, somewhere between orange and peach. The lake reflected the hue, marred only by a group of mallard ducks that glided almost seamlessly over the surface. By half-past the crowd had again dwindled, leaving only a few regulars at the bar, and a group of four lingering over a last round of beer on the porch, admiring the incredible view. I checked on them for Jilly, leaving their bill, before untying my apron and making my way out to the dock to sit for a moment and contemplate tomorrow.

I was wearing jean shorts and left my shoes on the shore, rejecting the glider in favor of the dock boards and sinking my legs into the lukewarm, slightly murky green water that lapped at the moorings. I untied my hair from a ponytail and shook out its length; I was finally getting used to the feel of its formerly shoulder-length strands on my back. I hadn't let my hair get long since high school and as I ran my hands through it I imagined Blythe doing the same thing, his big caressing hands that could be so gentle and hold me with such tenderness. Again I missed him so much I felt ill and took a deep breath and held it.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be moving towards him, finally
.

“Jo,” said a quiet voice from behind me, from the end of dock. He hadn't made his way onto the boards because I would have felt the reverberations. I sat still as a threatened spider for a moment, before turning and studying the man whose voice I knew so very well.

Jackson didn't move as our eyes met. He too seemed rooted in place, wearing crisp khaki-colored pants and a polo shirt, impeccable even on a casual summer evening. Behind him, up the gently-sloped incline from the lake, the windows of Shore Leave refracted the setting sun in a blinding array of golden-red.

“Can I join you?” he asked then, still speaking softly.

I turned away and shrugged, palms up. I heard him sigh, but he was joining me in the next moment, though he chose to take a seat on the glider. Stubbornly I kept my gaze focused away from him; it was so strange to be sitting here under circumstances like this, a place we'd sat together a million times in years past, where we'd occasionally made love, dripping and giggling under the stars after skinny-dipping. When minutes had passed and Jackson hadn't spoken either I finally gave in and tilted my chin back over my left shoulder to look at him.

He was sitting with his forearms braced on his thighs, gazing out over the lake with a distant expression, as though his thoughts were perhaps running in a similar direction. He hunched his shoulders a bit and met my gaze, his own frank and serious. But then he softened a little, and even smiled.

“Your tooth is fixed,” I said, without thinking, and his smile dissipated instantly.

“I drove into Bemidji and insisted,” he explained.

“I am sorry about that,” I said after a second. “I never wanted any of that to happen.”

“So where's Lover Boy?” he asked then, trying and failing to keep a note of maliciousness from his tone.

I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to tell him anything. But shit, he would know sooner than later. I sighed and said, emphasizing his name, “Blythe and Rich are driving back to Oklahoma. And I'm heading down there tomorrow.”

Jackson's back straightened abruptly and displeasure curled his upper lip. He snapped, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Jackson,” I warned. “It is none of your business.”

“Damn right it's my business!” he cried, his voice just shy of thundering.

“Keep it down!” I snapped back. We glared at each other for a long moment before I asked, slightly kinder, “What do you want from me?”

His face was familiar to me in nearly all of its emotions, but whatever rolled across his features just now wasn't something I'd ever observed. He looked uncertain, and somehow fearful, before smoothing these expressions away behind a mask of anger.

“What about the girls? I'll bring them back home with me if you go after that—”

“You will absolutely not!” I stormed, pulling my legs from the water and rising to my feet, the better to face off with him. To my extreme relief, no one was streaming out of the café to watch. Not like last night.

“Joelle, they will not stay here—”

“This is their home!” I raged at him. “And I will be back within a week.”

Jackson stared at me, bewildered. He asked, “What the hell happened this summer?”

“What do you mean?” I hedged, no longer yelling since he was not. I even allowed my hands to slip out of the fists I'd planted on my hips.

“You look different,” he observed, his chin tipped up to study me in a way he hadn't in years. The sunset light bathed his features, played over his dark curls, so very like our girls' hair. “The way you used to look.”

My heart stuttered at that. It was because I was myself again, thanks to Blythe and his incredible love. The thought of him kept my heart at a fast pace and made blood funnel into my cheeks.
Oh Blythe, you should be here. Why was I so blind?

Finally I said, “I feel like myself again.” And then I couldn't help but clarify, “No thanks to you.”

Jackson's mouth twisted a little. He said, “I truly am sorry about everything, Joelle.”

“How long?” I asked then, watching him intently.

He knew exactly what I meant, and a deep sigh came through with his response as he admitted, “Since she started.”

I turned away, still stung at being cheated upon for all those years. I said, “I knew it, you know.”

“I knew you did, after a while,” he said, his voice just as quiet as mine now was. “And I hated that you didn't do anything about it.”

I spun around to gape at him. Realizing how I must look, I snapped my jaw shut.

“You could have shown me you cared that I was messing around,” he explained, his eyes boring into mine with a mixture of hurt and anger.

I was too stunned to reply. Was this a petty, retaliatory way of trying to make this
my
fault?

“After the first few times I didn't even feel guilty anymore,” he said, as though he was in a confessional booth. I wanted him to stop, but somehow the words wouldn't come to me. He seemed to take my silence as permission to continue. “And when you caught us last Christmas, I was actually relieved. But I am sorry you had to…you know…”

“Watch you fucking another woman?” I whispered then, bitterness in my throat. “Yes, that was so…
relieving
.”

“Dammit, I'm trying to be honest with you, Jo,” he said. “I am truly sorry about that.”

“Will she be good to the girls? Because I'll kill her,” I said then, and he rolled his eyes at me.

“She wants kids of our own,” he said. “She's only 27.”

I let that one go. After a moment Jackie asked, “What about Milla? Ben Utley's little brother is the father? She won't tell me anything.”

This was slightly safer territory and certainly something we needed to discuss. When Jackson scooted over and indicated that I should sit beside him by tilting his head, I did. Again it was a bizarre sensation; where once I would have tucked myself against his side, I now sat stiff and slightly uncomfortable with the proximity of our thighs.

“Yes, and he's a little bastard,” I said.

Jackie actually laughed and I sensed him shaking his head, though I kept my gaze over the water. He added, “I should probably go and have a come-to-Jesus talk with him. Joan told me the kid plans to go back to college this fall as though nothing happened.”

I was still incensed over this. “He won't even talk to us. And Camille won't tell me how she really feels. I do know she was totally smitten with him this summer.” Again, I was overwhelmed by my own culpability. I heard myself admit, “I should have been watching her more closely. I blame myself.”

Jackie surprised me by snorting. “Hell, Jo, she's 17. You can't guard her every move.”

“I know,” I said, but my heart still ached for our oldest, whose life would never be the same. We knew that better than anyone, I guess. “But Camille…”

“I know, her whole world is different now,” Jackie said. “I'm glad she's got your family. I don't know how I would handle a pregnant kid in the house.” I knew it. At least he was being honest. He turned to face me and added softly, “Hey, no matter what I will always be there for our girls. Even if you live in Landon. You know that right?”

I sighed and braved a look back at him. I said honestly, “I know, Jackie.”

“How has she been feeling?” he asked.

“She's just been sleeping all the time now,” I told him. “But she won't talk to me either. She keeps everything so close to her heart.”

“She's always been that way. Tish tells us everything, at least.” And his smile was fond.

“That's true.”

“How are they taking it? Ruthie seems pretty excited, actually.”

We were conversing normally for the first time in nearly a year. I felt a ribbon of relief stream through me as I replied, “She is, now that a little of the shock has worn off. Tish is still dealing with the fact that this means her big sister had sex.”

When Jackson cringed visibly at my words, I added, “Sorry.”

“She's my baby,” he said softly. “And she's having a baby. It's too much. I wasn't ready for this yet.”

“None of us were.”

“It's how our folks felt back when.”

“But we won't make them get married.” About that I was adamant.

Jackie turned his head to face me in the gloaming light. He asked, his voice soft again, “You wouldn't have married me back then?”

I kept my eyes from his as I said, “I don't know, Jackie. But the decision was out of our hands. We can't change that now.”

He looked away and said, “Yeah, it was. But I will make that kid pay her child support.”

I felt a rush of gratitude that he was taking this in stride, ready to stand up for his daughter. Despite his failings as a husband, he had always been a good father to our girls and for that I was grateful. From above, up on the porch, the screen door suddenly creaked on its hinges and Tish called, “Dad! Phone's for you in the café!”