Page 61

TYLER

IT WAS STILLdark when I woke up the next morning. I got a quick shower and gathered my personal things into my bag, trying to stay quiet to give Jen a few extra minutes of rest. She had to be tired. I had been on the receiving end of a couple elbow jabs and ankle kicks as she twitched in her sleep before she had finally settled and sunk deeper into sleep, but that was only a few hours ago. Even in the soft glow of light coming from the bathroom, I could see dark circles under her eyes. She looked so vulnerable with one hand tucked under her cheek and her body curled around a pillow. I smoothed an errant blonde curl away from her face and kissed her awake. “Good morning, sweetheart. I thought we’d get an early start.”

Sleepy eyes blinked back at me in confusion, until last night’s memories swirled to the surface. “You don’t need to go with me, Tyler. It’s too much to ask.”

“You’re not asking, I’m volunteering. This is what it’s all about, Jen, being there for each other.”

She stared at me for several seconds. Finally, she blew out her breath and smiled sheepishly. Her sleep warmed hand rubbed my cheek. “You’re really special, ya know?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gave me a quick peck. “Okay. Thank you for coming.” I had some bagels toasted and smeared in cream cheese waiting for her once she came downstairs, along with a travel mug of coffee made just the way she liked it. I smiled at her reaction as I led her to a white Lexus four-door that hadn’t been in the driveway yesterday. “Where did this come from?” she asked as I unlocked the trunk and stowed our bags.

I grinned, pleased with myself at the deal I had worked out. “I know how you feel about riding in my car, and since we have a ways to drive I thought you’d be more comfortable in something like this. Besides, this way we can take your mom places, too.”

I opened the passenger door, but she didn’t get in. She tilted her head to the side. “So, you went out and rented another car? Just for this?”

“Not exactly.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do,exactly?”

“I traded cars with Kayla for the week. She dropped it off last night.” I shrugged like it had been no big deal. Although I had been a little uncertain about asking Kayla since it was a wedding gift to her from Alex. But Kayla being who she was, quickly discerned what I was making a muck of asking and volunteered to trade cars. But it did come with strict orders to take care of her baby.

Jen’s mouth dropped open. “You’re letting Kayla drive your Corvette? How much paperwork did you make her sign?”

Oh, this girl could make me laugh. “Don’t worry. She’s just as worried about her precious luxury mobile, too. She threatened both me and my ‘Vette with bodily harm if it came home with even a scratch on it. Honestly, I thought your friend was sweet, but she’s got a real mean streak in her.”

Despite the circumstances surrounding the reason for our trip, she started laughing.

“Don’t laugh,” I said, shaking my head. “I think you’d miss the parts she threatened if something happens.”

I shrugged. “Weeell, there’s always b.o.b.” As she turned to get into the car, I swatted her on her backside.

“You shouldn’t lower your standards, kitten,” I whispered in her ear. I gestured toward the open door. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

The closer we got to our destination, the further Jen traveled from the jovial moment we shared when we left. I glanced at her several times as her end of any conversation grew less and less verbose.

I turned the music down on the radio and pulled once on her ponytail. “You know, no news is good news, right? I’m not trying to say your dad’s condition isn’t serious, but it sounds like he’s stable.” I could feel her tension as I massaged her neck.

“I know you’re right, but I’m still worried. What if something happens and I’m not there in time? There are things I need to say to him, and I just always figured there was tons of time. Now . . .”

There weren’t many ways I could respond. I didn’t know his exact condition, and I knew not to give false hope and platitudes. I offered the best I could, feeling lame as I did, like she was just another family member waiting for news in the ER. “He’s almost made it through the first twenty-four hours, Jen. Just keep praying. We’ll know a lot more soon.”

Hours later I was fighting against the crick in my neck and the cramp in my back as I adjusted myself in one of the chairs in the waiting room outside the cardiac care unit. We had driven straight to the hospital. Jen’s mom, Caroline, had called while we were on the road to tell us her husband, Tim, was being prepped for surgery. When we walked into the waiting room, I could tell by Caroline’s double take that she was surprised to see me, but gave me an extra hug before turning to smile at her daughter. I could think of several excuses as to why Jen didn’t tell her mother I was coming, but it didn’t stop the sting of disappointment.

Jen was curled up in the chair next to me sending texts to whomever, updating them on her dad. A voice finally called out for the Mitchell family, and Jen and Caroline immediately stood up. I remained seated, unsure of my place, but it was Caroline who turned and waved to me to join them. She introduced me and added how grateful she was to have another physician to help understand all they were facing with her husband. Dr. Shue smiled politely but got right down to business. The surgery had been successful, but Tim was going to have to make a lot of changes to maintain his health. Caroline’s eyes lit up at the mention of food, and I had a feeling she was already working on a plan to change their eating habits. When Dr. Shue assured them they would be able to see Tim in a short while for just a few minutes each, Jen sagged against me. I held her in one arm and thanked the surgeon. We sat back down to wait once again. I pulled her in for a kiss on top of her head.

“Well, that’s good news, huh?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Her simple answer disturbed me. I couldn’t recall Jen ever being so conservative with words. I could tell she was relieved her father had done well with the surgery, but I expected more happiness. She described herself as a daddy’s girl, but this quiet reaction didn’t mesh with that. Something was off with her. Restless, I went for a short walk, winding my way throughout the hospital until I found a cafeteria. I bought dinner and brought it back to Jen and her mom. Both were grateful, but neither touched much of it and eventually I’d just thrown the cold fries and burgers in the trash. Jen spent several minutes sitting with her father and had come from his room looking troubled. When her mother went into her husband’s room for the second time, I offered to stay, or leave them alone to talk, or anything else I could think of to be helpful. Nothing had drawn Jen out of whatever funk she was experiencing. She just asked if I’d bring her home to her parent’s house. I felt like I was standing at the edge of a precipice, uncertain whether the ground under me was solid or about to give way.

A half hour later, Jen guided me to her home. She sat stiffly in the car, giving me monotone directions but otherwise quiet. Caroline had chosen to stay at the hospital so she could continue to visit when she was allowed. We finally pulled up in front of a modest home. I recognized it immediately since it was across the street from Chris’s house, which now sported a ‘For Sale’ sign in the front lawn. I wondered if he was home. Maybe he’d be interested in having a beer. But the house was dark. I shook my head; it wasn’t why I was here anyway, but I was starting to feel like I wasn’t needed . . . or wanted.

I grabbed our bags from the car and carried them into the house. As I anticipated, it was immaculate and tastefully decorated. There was a lot of pride in the home, but unlike my father’s house, I felt like I could be comfortable here. I dropped our bags near the front door and watched Jen wander about the living room, idly stopping to look at a colorful painting. Lacking anything else to do, I followed her into the room and stood beside her. I studied the painting of the beach. The artist had captured a wave at its crest. The shading and depth looked so real, more like a photograph than oils on canvas. A little girl played on the sand, building a sandcastle with her father. I looked closely; she looked a lot like a younger version of the girl in the room with me now. Locating the artist’s name in the corner confirmed my suspicion. Jen had surprised me at that eventful dinner when she told my father she had studied art; she just didn’t say in what capacity. I had jumped to the incorrect conclusion it was art history since I’d never seen any evidence of art supplies in her apartment.

“You painted this, didn’t you?” I couldn’t take my eyes off the picture. She had amazing talent, and she had walked away from it to start over. Just like my mother, only for very different reasons. No wonder she thought she understood my mother’s motivations. She knew it would take a strong reason to turn a back on such talent. For my mother, it had been love. For Jen, it had been fear and disillusionment. But all strong emotions.

She nodded slowly. “A couple years ago, before . . .”

I knew what she meant. Before her dreams lost their shape.