Page 43 of The Marriage Mission

ChapterThirty

Jacqui wrapped a soft, fleecy blanket around Jules. Her sister tried to stifle her sobs, but she was losing the battle. Jacqui ached inside as she watched the pain of the loss hunch her baby sister's shoulders. She would do anything to take away the hurt.

But she was helpless, too. Jacqui did not do helpless well.

She headed into the kitchen to make her sister a cup of tea. The scent of smoke still lingered faintly in the air, a harsh reminder of the fire that had ravaged Jules' bakery. The devastation was complete, and the emotional toll it took on both sisters was palpable.

Tea would soothe them both. Not just any tea, but one brewed from loose leaves, the way she had been taught, steeped in tradition by her father and grandfather.

However, in the quiet of the kitchen, Jacqui's hands shook as she opened the bag of tea leaves. The delicate leaves scattered clumsily into the pot rather than the graceful dance they were meant to perform.

Every motion was haunted by the ghost of her past. Jacqui had been the one to prepare the last meal for her mother before she was taken by cancer. She'd done the same for her father the night before he died. His heart had simply given out without the love of his life by his side.

The last meals she had prepared for her parents—those final acts of love had become tangled in her memory with loss and finality. Since then, her own kitchen had seen no cooking. Her skills and passion lay dormant, buried under the weight of her grief.

This brew was the furthest she'd gotten in a recipe in years. As the leaves swirled in the steaming water, her attempts at control unraveled. It was then that Nãinai stepped quietly into the kitchen.

With a knowing look, her grandmother observed Jacqui's struggle. Without a word, she placed her aged, steady hand over Jacqui's trembling one. The contact was grounding, a gentle but firm reminder of family and support that had always been the backbone of their lives.

Nãinai took over, her movements sure and practiced. She finished preparing the tea, her hands skillfully coaxing the leaves to release their flavor. The smell of jasmine tea filled the air, blending with the faint scent of smoke that seemed to have followed them from the restaurant.

"The fire chief said it could have been much worse," Jacqui told Jules when she handed her the cup, trying to infuse some hope into the grim atmosphere. "He said the new wiring Noah did in Chow Town actually helped prevent the fire from spreading."

"That young man has good hands and a good heart," Nãinai said as she stirred her tea.

Jacqui’s gaze wandered to the window, her thoughts drifting to Noah. She hadn’t seen him since they left the scene. He must have gone back to the bakery to help with cleanup efforts. It was just like him to think of others, to put himself where he was most needed without a second thought for his own rest or comfort.

She saw a figure moving in the dark. A broad-shouldered man. Her heart leapt at the thought of Noah. She rushed to the door. But when she pulled it open, it wasn't Noah.

"I just came to check on Jules," said Fish.

Jacqui stepped aside to let the big man in. "I thought you were Noah."

"I thought he was here." Fish's gaze went to Jules. He scanned her as though he was looking her over for injuries and wounds. But Jules hadn't been at the bakery when the fire had happened.

"Why don’t you try to get some rest, Jules? There’s a new bed in the guest room, fresh sheets too. It might help to lie down for a bit."

Jules shook her head. "I have too much to do. I need to talk to the fire chief. I need to start getting estimates and?—"

"I can do that," said Jacqui.

"No. It's my business. It's my responsibility."

"You're my responsibility."

Jules threw off the blanket and slammed down the tea cup. "Jacqui, I'm a grown woman, not a kid. You need to stop treating me like a sick child and go and live your own life. You need to stop dogging Jami's every step while she's an ocean away, and focus on you."

Jacqui jerked back like her sister had slapped her. Her hands, still slightly trembling from earlier, now hung limply at her sides. The shock of hearing such blunt rejection from Jules, whose well-being had always been a central pillar in her life, left her speechless.

She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing with each breath. She had always seen her actions as supportive, the natural duties of an older sister looking out for her family. The idea that her sisters might view her care as overbearing or intrusive was jarring. Her intentions, pure and protective in her mind, were now painted as meddling and suffocating.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision slightly. She blinked them back, not wanting to appear even more overbearing or emotional. But the hurt was there, undeniable and sharp, cutting through her like the knives she had once so expertly wielded in her kitchen.

Jules hopped up off the couch and wrapped her arms around Jacqui. It wasn't the first time her sister had given her a hug. But it was the first time the hug was meant to comfort Jacqui and not the other way around. Admittedly, Jacqui didn't know how to receive the affection.

"I know you care, Jacks, I do. But I need to handle this myself. I need to know I can."

Jacqui heard her sister's words, but she wasn't processing. What if Jules missed a detail and something went wrong? What if she tried to do something kind, something to show her affection and someone didn't wake up in the morning?

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