The Pursuit of Jesse (12 page)

“I
HAVE IN MY NOTES
that you wanted a buffet,” Sarah said, trying hard to keep the frustration from her voice as she paced up and down the living room of her house. It’d taken her less than fifteen minutes to confirm the menus for her other June weddings. In contrast, she’d already been on the phone with Megan for more than half an hour.

“Absolutely not,” Megan said. “I ended up deciding on a sit-down dinner for the wedding reception, remember? I know I emailed you.”

Megan had definitely not emailed that change to Sarah, and this was exactly why she made it a point to, without exception, reconfirm everything months ahead of time.

Taking a deep breath and glancing up in an effort to clear her head, Sarah immediately noticed that Jesse had finished what he’d called knockdown texturing on all the ceilings. She studied several edges and corners and couldn’t pick out a single flaw. The man was nothing if not meticulous. And he was right, too. She’d been reluctant to spend the extra money renting a spraying machine, but the new ceilings gave the house an updated, contemporary look and feel. She loved it.

“All right, Megan,” she said, feeling suddenly renewed. “A sit-down dinner it is. I’ve got you down for
marinated chicken with olive tapenade and filet mignon with béarnaise.”

Megan sighed. “What do you think about adding some Lake Superior flavor? Maybe whitefish with a white-wine cream sauce?”

“I think you should stick with chicken and beef. If you want fish, we can add that to the groom’s dinner buffet.”

“This is a destination wedding. I want more Mirabelle flavor—”

“I get that, Megan,” Sarah interrupted, needing to shut this bride down. “But a lot of people don’t like fish. Remember that Mirabelle’s flavor comes into play the moment your guests step onto the ferry. The island charm is solidified when they’re whisked away on horse-drawn carriages to the Mirabelle Island Inn. Then there are the historic rooms. The rose gardens. The breezes coming in off the lake. The view. The gazebo. That’s what Mirabelle Island is all about.”

Megan sighed. “You’re right. You’re right. Just like the gold calla lilies. Beef and chicken it is. But I want the vegetables steamed, not boiled. And I want pasta, not potatoes…”

Sarah closed her eyes and kept her mouth shut, hoping Megan would soon run out of steam. Several minutes later, the bride took a breath and Sarah seized the opportunity. “Megan, I must run. I’ve got everything under control, okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. See you soon.”

Sarah clicked off her cell phone and glanced around, taking in the status of her house. As picky as she could be, she couldn’t fault Jesse’s work. As for his admission at Duffy’s the other night as to why he’d gone to
prison, she was at a loss. She hadn’t seen him since then and had no clue as to how to proceed in this strange relationship.

Picking up a broom, she walked toward the back and started sweeping up the bathrooms. She and Jesse had an unwritten, unspoken agreement. He made messes. She cleaned them up.

When the front door opened and closed, her stomach clenched.

“Hello? Sarah?” Close but no cigar. It was Garrett.

She stepped out into the hall. “Jesse’s not here.”

“Actually, I was looking for you.” He came toward her, examining every angle and line of Sheetrock and trim with a critical eye. “My brother might not be able to design furniture to save his soul,” he murmured. “But he does damn good remodeling work.”

“You were right.” Sarah finished sweeping the floor. “He
was
the best man for this job.”

“The only person likely to satisfy a perfectionist is another perfectionist.” Garrett smiled. “How are things going between you two?”

Avoiding his gaze, she dumped the full dustpan into the garbage. “All right.” It’d been several days since Jesse had come to Duffy’s, and since then, she had to admit, she’d been avoiding him, coming to the house late in the day and hoping Jesse would already be gone. The time or two that lights had still been on inside she’d left to come back later.

“You sure about that?”

Silently, she glanced up at Garrett.

“The other night at Duffy’s,” he said. “I know he told you about his DWI. Hitting a pedestrian.”

She didn’t know what to say. Since then, Jesse’s admission had been all she’d thought about. What he had
done was wrong. There was no way around that. But Sarah would’ve been lying to herself to not admit she’d made her share of mistakes.

While she empathized with the man Jesse had hit and his family, people made mistakes every day, and sometimes those mistakes impacted other’s lives. Some times people even died. During her stint down in Miami, there were a number of times she could’ve been the one who’d ended up in prison for any number of infractions.

“I think there might be a few other things about Jesse that might help you understand,” Garrett said softly.

“I won’t say anything to any of the other islanders,” Sarah said, putting the broom and dustpan in the closet. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I hadn’t even considered that, to be honest.”

“Then what?”

“I’m worried about Jesse. Guess it’s the big-brother thing. What he’s been through has hit him pretty hard,” Garrett said. “Sometimes I’m surprised he still has a sense of humor.” He chuckled. “When we were kids he was always the comic relief. Bet that doesn’t come as a surprise, huh?”

“No.”

“Something that might surprise you is that for whatever reason—and I’m trying hard not to read anything into this—your opinion has become important to Jesse.”

Amidst the emotions rolling off him in waves the other night, she’d sensed that. She didn’t understand it, but she’d felt it.

“The truth is that Jesse is one of the most misunderstood people I know. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized what a stand-up guy he was compared to
the rest of us. He might’ve been the baby in the family, but he had more balls than me.”

Knowing Garrett, that seemed hard to believe.

“I remember time and time again,” Garrett said, “my dad would come home in a bad mood looking for a fight. The rest of us would hightail it outside, or hide in our rooms. Not Jesse. He’d get right in front of Dad and try to make the man laugh. Sometimes it’d work and defuse things, and sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes my dad would lighten up, but more often than not Jesse would get the back of a hand. You’d think a split lip would be enough to shut a kid down. Hell, it always shut me right up. Not Jesse.”

“What would he do?”

“He’d change tactics. If humor didn’t work, he’d purposefully antagonize my dad. Egg him on. Get him mad.”

“Why? Why wouldn’t he just leave your dad alone?”

“I think he was afraid that if he left my dad alone when he was in those gnarly moods, then Dad would take his anger out on someone else. Like one of us other boys. Or Mom. That was completely unacceptable as far as Jesse was concerned.”

Emotion clogged Sarah’s throat.

“Jess would step in front of a speeding truck to save someone else. That’s one of the things that’s so sad about what happened that night in Milwaukee four years ago.” He held Sarah’s gaze. “I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive himself for
being
the truck.”

Once upon a time, she could’ve been in Jesse’s shoes. The fact that she hadn’t gotten caught didn’t make it right. The fact that she’d hurt no one but herself in the process had been sheer luck. She didn’t have a right to
judge him, and it had been unfair of her to assume he’d be a bad influence on Brian. It was time she apologized to Jesse, and the best way she knew how to do that was to share with him everything she hadn’t been able to share with Missy about her past. Sooner rather than later.

“By the way,” Garrett said. “Did you hear the bad news?”

“No, what happened?”

“Carl’s mom died.”

“Jean Andersen died?” Sarah murmured. “Oh, my God, no.”

Mirabelle Island’s retired pastor John Andersen and his wife, Jean, had been wintering in Arizona for years. She hadn’t known Jean very well, but she’d worked with John on many weddings before he’d retired, and even a few afterward. He was a kind-hearted, quiet man, and this would definitely be hard for him.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Massive heart attack. Apparently, John found her outside, near her garden. There was nothing he could do.”

“B
RIAN, ARE YOU SURE
your mom said it’s okay for you to be here helping out?” Jesse asked from his crouched position in front of the old kitchen cabinets at Sarah’s house.

Brian and Zach were completely inside the empty cupboards helping to detach the backs from the kitchen wall.

“Positive. I swear,” Brian said. “She told me it was okay.”

“All right. Just checking.” Jesse may have spilled his guts to Sarah at Duffy’s, but a part of him completely
understood Sarah’s reservations. Now that the truth was out, though, he had to tell the boys. He’d delayed long enough.

“She treats me like a baby,” Brian complained before Jesse could formulate any kind of way to broach the subject. “I’m sick of it.”

“Maybe if you acted more grown-up,” Jesse said, “she’d treat you more like a grown-up.”

“What do you mean?” Brian asked, poking his head out from the cabinet.

“When’s the last time you helped out without being asked?”

Brian frowned.

“Try doing the dishes on your own sometime.” With four boys in the house and him being the youngest, Jesse had always gotten stuck with the worst of the household chores. “Getting your homework done before your mom asks about it.”

“Whatever.” Brian grunted, as if he were dismissing Jesse, and slid back inside the old cabinet.

“Hey, wait a minute. Come on back out here. Both of you. I need to talk with you guys about something.”

They scrambled out from inside the cabinets, tools in hand, and sat there on the floor, both of them looking at him so innocently. So expectantly. And for what?

He could deal with Jonas and Sean saying it like it is. He told himself he couldn’t care less about the judgments of the other people on Mirabelle that he didn’t even know, but somehow, someway, he’d come to care about what these young boys thought of him almost as much as Sarah.

He sat down on the floor. “There’s something I haven’t told you about myself.” There was no easy way
to do this. He just had to say spit it out. “Right before I came here to Mirabelle, I spent four years in prison.”

Zach’s gaze slid away.

“Yeah, we know,” Brian said.

“You already know?”

“I heard Garrett and Erica talking about it one night when they thought I was asleep,” Zach said.

“Kids were talking about it at recess,” Brian added.

“They said you probably killed someone.” Zach jerked his head back up and his cheeks got red. “We told them it wasn’t true.”

Brian clenched his jaw. “I swear, I almost punched Alex.”

“Nobody needs to punch anybody.” Jesse sighed. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I…I guess I was embarrassed.”

“What did you do?” Brian asked.

Zach cringed. “Was it bad?”

“No one goes to prison without doing something bad.” Jesse looked into their faces and the urge to sugarcoat the situation shot through him. They were kids, he reasoned. He could paint any picture he wanted and they’d believe him. They’d want to believe him. But he couldn’t do that to them. To himself.

“I was at a bar,” Jesse said. “I drank too much beer and then I drove my truck. I went off the road and I hit a man. Almost killed him.”

For a moment, neither boy said anything. Then they looked at each other.

“Yeah, that’s bad,” Zach said.

“But at least he didn’t kill anyone,” Brian said.

Zach nodded. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

“No, listen.” Jesse shook his head. “Don’t make this
seem like it’s no big deal. Just because I didn’t kill him doesn’t make it okay.”

“But we like you, Jesse.”

“And you’d never hurt us.”

“No,” Jesse whispered. “I’d never hurt anyone. Not on purpose.”

“See? You’re not a bad man.”

“No, I’m not a bad man. Good people sometimes make bad decisions. You’re right. Everyone makes mistakes. Some of us, like me, make big ones. That’s why I had to go to prison. Just because I went to prison, though, doesn’t make everything okay.” He glanced from one to the other, hoping this was sinking in. “So if anyone says anything bad about me, you let it go. Understand?”

Zach’s shoulders dropped.

Brian frowned. “But—”

“I mean it, boys. I don’t want anyone defending me, and I sure as hell don’t want anyone fighting for me. I did something very wrong. There’s no way around that. That means everyone on Mirabelle has a right to make up their own minds about me. So you just let them say and think what they want. And you walk away.”

“Fine,” Brian muttered.

“All right,” Zach agreed.

“I have to learn from my mistakes.
You two
can learn from my mistake. We’ll all be better in the end.” If only Jesse could believe that. “Well, that’s that.” He smiled, feeling surprisingly relieved for the first time in a very long while. “Now, let’s get back to work!”

The boys climbed back inside the lower kitchen cabinets as if nothing earth-shattering had happened. Jesse wasn’t fool enough to think this conversation was over,
but at least he’d broached the subject, opened the door for them to talk with him. With any luck, they would.

“Don’t worry about breaking anything, Zach,” Jesse said, keeping the cabinet doors wide-open and shining a large flashlight into the darkness so the boys could see what they were doing. “Put some muscle into it, Brian. You two can get those screws out.”

“These screws are really hard to turn,” Brian said.

“You’ll get them,” Jesse said, keeping the tone of his voice as encouraging as possible. “Keep working on it. Only about fifty more screws to go.”

“Fifty!” Brian groaned. “Oh, man!”

“That’s too many!” Zach complained.

“Ah, come on.” Jesse grinned. “Work together to zap those suckers out of there.”

“You hold up the screwdriver, Zach,” Brian said. “And I’ll push it onto the screw.”