Page 48 of Baby, It’s You (Clairesville #1)

Hunter

I ’m sitting outside of the memory care facility in my truck, which is currently parked next to Olive’s purple car.

I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, anxious and questioning my decision to come here in the first place.

Olive sounded so upset and scared on the phone this morning.

I know she was trying to hide it from me but after getting off the call, I couldn’t just leave it be; I needed to be here for her.

I’ve been sitting out here for a little over an hour.

I just feel so much compassion for her, deep in my bones.

I know the feeling of knowing your time is coming to an end with someone you love deeply and not being able to stop it.

I think back on my last months with my father.

He was so weak and fragile. A shell of the man he was before.

I think about the story my mom told us, about him loving her more than anything else.

Putting his love for her above his parents' opinions.

I feel that way about Olive, I think. I would put her above anything else.

I feel butterflies in my stomach as I realize…I love her.

I see a woman with dark hair hunched in on herself walk out of the front door of Hills Pointe and realize it’s Olive.

I quickly get out of the truck and close my door.

She still has her head down, walking almost dazedly, when I meet her on the sidewalk.

She finally looks up and when she does, her expression crumbles.

“Hunter,” she says breathlessly, and then throws herself into my arms as she begins to sob. Her whole body shakes violently as the emotion grips her. Her breathing is fast and uncontrolled.

I hold her tight in my arms, relieved she is at least accepting my comfort and presence here. I gently stroke her hair as her cries turn into silent sobs.

I console her softly. “I’m here, Olive. I’ve got you. You’re my girl.”

“I feel like I didn’t take enough time to see her these past years.

I could have told her I loved her more; I could have thanked her while she still understood.

I could have shown her the love that Tripp never did.

I want to go back in time, to tell her what she means to me.

” She confesses all her thoughts, and her tears soak my shirt as I silently listen.

We stand like this for a while until the only thing left is her hiccups, an aftermath of the tears.

“Would you like me to give you a ride to work? I can bring you back to your car later?” I ask her in a low voice.

“No, it’s okay,” She looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. The hurt in them makes me want to kiss her deeply, to try to remove some of the pain in her heart.

I tuck her dark hair behind an ear. “What time do you have to be there?”

“Eleven-thirty.” Olive sniffles.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and check the time: 10:45. “Would you like to come sit in my truck with me for a few minutes, then?”

She nods her head yes and clasps my hand weakly as I lead her to the passenger side. She slumps into the seat, and I gently shut the door, then run around to my side. Once we are in the truck, I take a deep breath. “I want to tell you about my dad, if that’s okay?”

She looks over at me and gives me a whisper of a response. “Yes. I would like to hear more about him.”

I fidget with my steering wheel, knowing the vulnerability of what I’m about to share with her is deeper than anything I’ve told her before.

“I’ll start by telling you, my dad and I didn’t have a perfect relationship when I was growing up.

I spent many years as a teenager arguing with him over the stupidest things, like having a curfew or getting in trouble for drinking.

I was always seeing what I could do to push the boundaries with him; I was kind of a punk kid.

I didn’t want to listen to any authority, even when it was someone who loved me as deeply as he did.

“My dad was the strict parent, at least compared to my mom. She was always a free spirit.” I chuckle.

“I told him I hated him many times during fights when I was young and he would just look at me and tell me in response, ‘ That’s okay, son, because I will love you enough for the both of us while you’re mad at me . ’

“I wish so deeply I could change my teenage years and the way I treated him. As an adult, I tried to do everything I could to make up for those years where I was a shit to him. I spent every moment that I wasn’t working with him once he was diagnosed with cancer.

The guilt still consumed me, though. The time I didn’t appreciate that I had with him, when he was healthy.

“I bought this truck because of guilt,” I tell her, motioning around us.

“Because it was always his dream to restore an old car with me. It was his hobby, and I wanted to get that connection with him that I had missed out on before. I wanted to apologize for the stress I caused him when I was young, but for some reason you always just think you will have more time with someone, so I never said it to him. I couldn’t get the words out, even during his last moments.

“I was weak. I have let it haunt me ever since. You don’t expect your dad to die when you’re a young man in your twenties.

You think your parents will always be there.

The time you have never feels like enough.

Which is why I can’t even begin to comprehend the absolute heartbreak you must feel right now.

You didn’t have that nurturing parent growing up, and you finally found it in Jane.

She gave you what your mom and dad never could.

You have had way less time with her than I ever had with my dad and that makes me so angry for you.

You don’t deserve any of this. Jane doesn’t deserve any of this. ”

I take a deep breath and hold both her hands in mine.

“I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that things will be easy.

It’s not easy to lose someone you love deeply.

You’re going to feel lost and angry without her.

All I can ask of you is please don’t shut me out.

I know Ivy is moving this weekend, so lean on me.

I will help you get through this. I will be your strength when you have none.

My friends forced me to get up and keep living when the loss of my dad consumed me.

I felt angry with them at the time. I wanted to lay around and do nothing.

I almost felt like if I wasn’t suffering, my dad wouldn’t think I loved him enough.

Now I know that’s not true; my dad would want me happy, always.

I know Jane would want the same for you.

“Look at how many people she picked up and helped in the stories we’ve heard.

She wouldn’t want you in pain for a minute; she would want you to live .

Let me be your strength, lean on me when you miss her.

I will come and be with you; all I ask is that you open your door and let me. Don’t shut me out.”

I sit next to her in silence after I’ve finished talking. She is looking out the window, deep in thought. I’m not even sure if she has been listening, but she finally turns to me and says, “Okay, Hunter.”

I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Olive, you mean the world to me.”

I know this isn’t the right time to tell her I love her.

She nods and pulls back. “I've got to go to work now.” She begins to open the passenger door and adds, “Thank you for being here for me.” Her eyes are red-rimmed and empty at this point. I’m so worried about her.

She’s been hurt by so many people before; I know her control tactic is to shut down emotionally.

“Of course. I’m here, always,” I say.

Olive gets out of the car and starts to walk to her own vehicle.

“Will you please text or call me later?” I call after her.

She turns back towards me quickly. “Yes,” she says, and then gets in her car and drives away.

I text Olive later that afternoon to check on her and get worried when I still haven’t heard anything after an hour. By nightfall, I grow even more concerned, so I drive past the bar to see if she’s still at work. The lights are off…not good.

I anxiously park at The Mart across the street and walk in to see Mr. Ray behind the counter. He gives me a sad small smile in greeting. I look at him and ask the question, my voice like gravel, because I already know the answer. “Jane?”

Mr. Ray looks down at this lap and shakes his head sadly. “Gone.”

I rush out of the store, knowing I need to get to Olive.