Page 94 of Finding Jacob
“What do you know, Sadie?” I asked.
“Only what you and Nathan have told me. Jacob’s lawyers were here the other day, Nathan showed them into the office, and I know there is a document left for you to look through.”
“Nathan did mention some paperwork. I can’t believe what has happened, to be honest. I know Jacob’s seriously struggling with his mental health, but we could have helped him through that, couldn’t we?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve known him a long time and, other than when his wife died, I’ve never known him to not be on top of his game. But that’s depression for you, isn’t it? Perhaps he never really recovered and this blow to his body tipped him over the edge.”
I hadn’t considered that point. “And I guess our relationship and Paloma all came as a surprise to him.”
Maybe I hadn’t taken into consideration his initial shock, but he’d seemed more than happy in the past few months.
“All we can do is carry on as normal until he returns. And he will, Anna, I know that in my heart. Whether you can forgive him is another matter.”
Forgive him? I loved him. He was the father or my child. Of course, I could forgive him, but would he ever want us again? That was the bigger question.
I took Paloma up to the nursery and laid her in her cot. She had a Moses basket that I’d move to the bedroom for the time being. But I wanted her to see her room. I talked to her, telling her that Daddy had organised the animals and the wall painting while I sat in the nursing chair. She gurgled, waved her legs and arms, and then screamed. I chuckled, guessing she wanted feeding. In the sideboard was a kettle and jug and I heated up her milk. I picked her up and settled her in my arms. She was a joy to feed, she stared at me, blinked, and sucked away. Her little hands were closed into fists that she occasionally waved at me if she thought I was removing her bottle.
When she was done, she closed her eyes. She had to work a little harder than most babies on everything she did, and it tired her out. I placed her back in the basket and carried it downstairs.
“Let me help,” I heard. I looked up to see Nathan at the front door. He rushed forwards and grabbed the basket.
“I was going to put her in the library with me,” I said. “And I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”
“I forgot a folder.” He carried her to the room and placed her on the floor beside my desk.
“While you’re here, where is this document I have to look at?”
Nathan told me that he’d grab it from Jacob’s office. He was back a few minutes later. He handed me a large white envelope; the flap wasn’t sealed but tucked under. I opened it and shook out some official-looking documents.
A lawyer’s firm was printed across the top of the first page, and it was a letter addressed to me. I scanned.
“What the fuck?” I reread. “He has signed this house over to me, opened a bank account for me and one for Paloma. Does that mean what I think it does?”
I threw the letter down and picked up the transfer documents and bank account statements.
“What do you think it means?”
“That he’s never coming back to us. I don’t want his fucking house,” I said, throwing the documents down and stomping to the windows.
“It’s not that he isn’t coming back, Anna. He wants to make sure you are cared for, that Paloma is, too.”
“He has a funny way of showing us that. And you make sure you tell him that when you speak to him next.” I stared at Nathan, daring him to contradict me. He didn’t. “What is going through his head, Nathan?” I asked quietly.
He sighed. “He feels he isn’t the man you need, he’s half a man, he says.”
“What utter bollocks! How could he possibly know what I want if he won’t fucking ask me. I mean, don’t I get a say in this as well?”
Nathan gave me a half smile. “I don’t understand his logic right now, only that he’s not right in the head and he’s getting help for that.”
“And he expects me just to do what? Wait around?”
“No, he doesn’t. He knows he’s taking a massive gamble here. That’s why he signed this over and has deposited money for you both.”
“I can’t stand the fact he talks to you but not me. Why is that?”
“I don’t know, Anna. I wish I had answers for you. He was like this when his wife died, he was grieving. I guess he’s grieving again, but this time for his own body and not someone else’s. He struggles every day. He sweats, bleeds, trying to walk. He’s determined and there’s no reason to say he won’t, but he can’t focus on anything else but that.”
I let my shoulders sag. I got it; I really did. I didn’t like it and sometimes my anger overrode my sense.
