Page 29 of Promise of a New Beginning
She pictured him leaning against the kitchen counter, his long legs angled out from his body, his thick eyebrows drawn together as he waited for her to lay her problems out before him.What am I doing?She couldn’t run to Daddy when things got tough. That alone would prove that she wasn’t strong or confident.
“No, Dad. I was just checking.”
“All right, but if you need me, you know where to reach me. You going to make it to Hugh’s award ceremony?”
Hugh was always winning one award or another. They’d all head out to wherever the event was being held, and Hugh would flash a smile, dole out hugs, and inevitably get swept away by some leggy woman they’d never see again. She smiled.Hugh’s every woman’s dream come true—the face of Patrick Dempsey on Hugh Jackman’s body and with a love of all things risky.Regardless of how much she loved Hugh, all she could think was that he probably left a trail of broken hearts in his wake just like the men she needed to avoid.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she answered. “Good to talk to you, Dad.”
“Vanny?”
“Yeah?”
“You can learn all the fancy skills you feel you need, but the strength and ability to survive comes from within. You just remember that, darlin’. And you’re a survivor. There ain’t nothing this world can hand you that you cannot endure.”
The tears she’d been holding back sprang free.I hope you’re right.
JACK’S VINTAGE INDIAN Chief motorcycle snaked swiftly up the long gravel driveway of the Bedford Corners home that he and Linda had shared. Jack leaned into the curves that used to bring him such comfort. Now, riding beneath the canopy of trees that arced overhead felt strange, and the air beneath, oddly cold.
He parked his bike in front of his cedar-sided chalet and placed his helmet on the back. After Linda had died, he’d holed up inside for days, wallowing in guilt and hiding from both of their families, until seeing her ghost in every photograph and reliving the memories they’d shared drove him into darkness and he’d escaped to the mountains. He walked past a wooden rocker as he climbed the porch steps, remembering the day he and Linda had purchased it from a man who looked like Grizzly Adams at a farmer’s market on the outskirts of town. Jack unlocked the heavy wooden door. When he stepped inside, it wasn’t the cooler temperature that had him rooted to the floor of the open living space. It was the emptiness that came with it. The way a room felt when it had been uninhabited for too long. Stale. Lonely. Dead. Like a garden after the vegetables and leaves had withered away and all that was left were the brittle stalks.
Jack forced himself to step inside. He blew out a breath and closed the door behind him. He looked down at the wide slats of wood beneath his feet and followed their lines to the sunken living room tucked just beyond the dining room table to his right. The stone fireplace that once crackled with warmth now stood barren before the rich blue couches. He managed a few steps in that direction and felt the kitchen looming to his left. Linda had been a talented cook, and as he turned to look at the stainless-steel stove, he pictured her wide smile as she’d leaned over multiple pots atop the stove, her hips moving to imaginary music. He could almost feel her eyes lifting from a pot and catching his, could envision the tilt of her head and her blond hair spilling into her eyes as she blew him a kiss. His heartbeat sped up, and he turned his body fully in that direction.
Get a grip.He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the image was gone. He pushed through the tightening in his chest and his racing heart and forced himself to move past the kitchen to the staircase.
His legs felt like lead as he took each step up the open slatted staircase. At the landing at the top, two bedroom doors remained closed. He hadn’t been in them for months. He turned, his muscles trying to spur him into a hasty retreat, but his mind brought him back to Savannah and he fisted his hands, then spun back around with a growl.
“I’m not turning back.” He lowered his eyes and stormed to the first bedroom door, grabbing the cold metal handle and turning it fast and hard, then thrusting the door open. He stormed into the master bedroom, and anger boiled in his veins. Savannah’s voice sifted through his mind.Too bad you can’t live in the past, Jack.Heat spread up his neck and cheeks. He threw open the double closet doors. His chest expanded with every breath. Two years he’d lived with the strangling guilt and self-loathing. Two long torturous years. He reached into the closet and grabbed a fistful of Linda’s clothes, then yanked them from the hangers and threw them on the floor at his feet. His arms shook at the sight of them.
He reached in again, and his large hand grasped three outfits and tore them out of the closet with a loudsnapas the hangers broke with the force of the pull. Adrenaline surged him forward, and he used both hands to rip the clothes out of the closet—and out of his life.
“FreakingLinda.Freakingstorm.” Handful after handful of her clothes piled around his feet. He reached deep into the back of the closet and grabbed a white garment bag. Tears filled his eyes as he stepped forward and buried his face in the white plastic garment bag that held his wife’s wedding gown. His shoulders rounded forward as pain stewed in his gut, then traveled to his chest, where it swirled and gained strength before finding its release through his swollen throat, filling the room as an indiscernible, tortured wail. He gasped for breath, his chest convulsing with sobs. His biceps strained against his sleeves, shaking as he tore the plastic garment bag from its hanger and collapsed to his knees, burying his face in the cold plastic, his tears pooling against his skin.
It ends here. It has to end here.
Chapter Seventeen
TWO HOURS LATER, Jack carried several green Hefty bags full of Linda’s clothes out of the house and dropped them on the front porch. He circled back up the stairs and stood in the middle of the master bedroom. The mattress lay bare as bones, stripped of its sheets and comforter; the empty dresser drawers hung open and cockeyed. The closet doors were open wide, exposing the first space he’d conquered. He wiped his face with the crook of his elbow and drew in a loud breath. His eyes burned from the tears that had already fallen, and as he left the room and approached the other door off of the hall, he thought he didn’t have any tears left to shed.
He grabbed the knob and turned it slowly. His arms would not fling the door open. No matter how hard he tried, his muscles fought against his mind. The veins in his forearms snaked beneath his skin, thick and blue. He turned away, burying his hand in his hair and bending over as he groaned with frustration.
Several fast breaths later, he turned and faced the door again. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the doorknob. He clenched his fists and raised his powerful leg. One fierce kick broke the door free from its hinges, splintering around the lock. The next sent it slamming to the floor. Jack stormed into the room, his eyes locked on the crib beneath the window. He hulked across the floor and gripped the railing, fresh tears streaming down his face. He dropped his eyes to the stuffed elephant in the corner of the crib and reached for it, then brought it to his chest as he lowered himself into the rocking chair in the corner of the room, clutching the stuffed toy as the memories rushed in again.Let’s get the nursery ready just to get in the mind-set of having a baby around. I’ll buy baby clothes and everything.She’d been so excited the month they’d put together the nursery.He’ll have your eyes, Jack. And your height. I hope he has your height.He brought the elephant to his face and pressed it against his cheek.What if it’s a girl? She’ll be as beautiful as you, he’d said to Linda.Let’s start trying Monday. It’s the first of the month. A great time to start! Oh, Jack, I’m so excited.Linda was a planner, always had been. The idea of trying to get pregnant and having a “start” date fit right into her organized and efficient lifestyle. Neither of them could have known that she wouldn’t make it through the weekend. He crushed the elephant between both hands and allowed his body to feel every soulful tear, every wrench of his heart, every kick in the gut of saying goodbye to the child they’d never even had the chance to try to conceive.
A STREAK OF light sliced through the window and moved slowly across the hardwood floor of the nursery. Jack’s tears had dried hours ago, but he hadn’t been able to move from his perch in the rocker. His throat was dry, and his chest ached. He rose to his feet, moving slowly as he opened the closet doors. He took the baby clothes from the hangers carefully, folding each little outfit and placing it inside the crib; then he took that pile of unworn clothes and moved robotically down the stairs, feeling defeated and relieved at once.It’s time. I’ve hidden long enough.
With the baby clothes packed neatly in a grocery bag, he set them on the front porch. He locked the door, then leaned against it and slid down to the floor, contemplating his next move. He’d been thinking about it all afternoon. There was only one thing he could do with Linda’s clothes, and it would require reaching out and mending a fence. He needed to call Linda’s sister, Elise, and give her Linda’s clothes, and the idea of making the call seemed impossible.
The baby clothes could go to Goodwill, but Linda’s clothes should go to her family.I’m her family. Was. Iwasher family.Jack didn’t want to keep any of Linda’s clothes. As much as it felt like he was ripping out a part of his soul, each time he thought of Savannah, he felt a rush of hope, and that hope stirred his heart in a different way—a better way. He no longer wanted to hold on to the past. Those few days he’d spent with Savannah had reminded him of how it felt not to be consumed with anger and guilt, and more importantly, for a few intimate moments, the loneliness that had consumed him day in and day out had fallen away. He hadn’t realized how dark his life had become until Savannah, and all her stubbornness and all her beauty, barged in and lit up his world. He was ready to move forward.
Chapter Eighteen
SAVANNAH WAS GLAD to be back at work Tuesday morning. She’d stayed up most of the night before thinking about Jack. She’d tossed and turned all night, wishing she could see him—even though she knew she probably shouldn’t.Why is he consuming my every thought?Now she threw herself into the work that had piled up while she was gone.
She hung up the phone with a client and weeded through the stack of messages on her desk.How will I ever get through these?She prioritized them into separate stacks: clients whose lives would turn inside out if she didn’t call them back immediately, clients who onlythoughttheir lives would turn upside down, and people who might one day become clients. The remaining two stacks consisted of other legal documents she had to take care of and…Connor Dean. Not only had he filled her voicemail and sent her too many text messages to count, but he’d also left seven messages with her assistant, Catherine. She couldn’t fathom why he was trying to get in touch with her at all. She’d already severed their working relationship and handed his files off to another attorney. His window of apology should have ended a year ago.Darn it.She had hoped that when she didn’t return his calls, he’d get the message and leave her alone, but now it looked as though he’d continue to hound her if she didn’t reiterate that it was over. As she picked up her cell to return his call, a knock sounded at her door; then the door flew open.
“Hey there, girlfriend. Lookie, lookie.” Her associate, Aida Strong, came through the door carrying a large bouquet of roses. She was almost as tall as Savannah, with the same slim hips and long legs. Against Aida’s fitted white skirt and blouse, the red roses looked even more vibrant.
Savannah’s pulse sped up as she came around the desk. “Who sent them?”Jack? Maybe he’s not such a Neanderthal after all.
