Читать книгу Second Chance Romance - Jill Weatherholt - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“Jackson and Rebecca won’t be here for a couple of hours,” Aunt Phoebe announced from her kitchen. “Why don’t you go lie down and take a little nap?”

Melanie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The searing pain persisted in her neck. She’d been anxious to leave the hospital this morning, but now she wondered if she should have stayed. With the tips of her fingers, she touched the stitches on her cheek. No point trying to cover them with makeup. She stared out the living-room window in dreaded anticipation of the dinner guests, especially Jackson’s daughter.

Aunt Phoebe’s house, a charming country cottage, reminded Melanie of the gingerbread houses she’d made with her mother as a child. Although small in comparison to her three-level town house in the heart of Capitol Hill, Aunt Phoebe’s cottage sat on fifteen acres of immaculate tree-lined property, obviously maintained by a professional landscaper. Melanie had to admit it was stunning. The backyard exploded with shades of yellow and red. A quaint white gazebo sat near a small pond. Potted mums perfectly arranged along the interior of the structure provided an added pop of dazzling autumn colors.

Once upon a time, this had been her favorite time of the year, but no more. Her world was the same no matter the season. Dark.

Melanie peeled herself from the comfort of the La-Z-Boy chair. Now was a good time to discuss the move. Before Jackson showed up. She’d sensed his displeasure at the suggestion when she’d brought it up yesterday. She pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The combination of the bright October sun and the yellow-painted walls made her feel like she needed her sunglasses. “Aunt Phoebe, don’t you think it might be time for you to slow down? Have someone look after you for a change? You’re sixty-five years old. You can’t expect to continue to take care of this house and run The Bean.” As far as Melanie knew, she worked there every weekday and Saturday. And Melanie suspected the only reason she didn’t work on Sunday was because they were closed. Aunt Phoebe was a firm believer in going to church on Sunday and spending the rest of the day in fellowship with family and neighbors.

“Slow down?” Phoebe speared a piece of chicken with a fork and placed it on a floured baking sheet. “I’m hitting my stride.” She pushed out her chest. “In fact, I just signed up for the hospital’s 5K.”

Melanie’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t run. You’ll injure yourself.”

“Maybe I can’t run, but I can certainly walk. It’s for children’s cancer research, and if I have to, I’ll crawl across the finish line.” She sprinkled some pepper onto the chicken and rolled it in the flour. She turned her head when the pepper triggered a sneeze. “Excuse me.”

Nothing slowed the woman down. But in spite of how she felt now, if something happened to her, Melanie would find herself alone in the world. Her stomach turned at the thought. “So, what do you think about moving to DC with me?” She stared down at the chicken.

Aunt Phoebe shook her head. “Honestly, when you mentioned this crazy idea at the hospital, I thought you were joking. Why would I want to move? My life is here.”

The oven beeped. It was fully preheated and ready for the oversize biscuits.

Melanie expelled a weary sigh. “You’re the only family I have. I want to take care of you.”

Aunt Phoebe snatched the checkered dish towel off of the counter and dried her hands. “You don’t think I’m capable of looking out for myself?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just think your home and The Coffee Bean are a lot of upkeep for anyone.”

“You mean for an old coot like me?” She tightened the strings on her apron. “This is nonsense. The valley is where I plan to spend my last days on this earth, however long the good Lord determines I have.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Let’s end this subject. We’ve got company coming.”

“Don’t you get scared living out here alone?”

“Scared? Why would I be scared?” She pulled on her yellow gloves and, with an oversize sponge, scrubbed the cast-iron skillet with the tenacity of a twenty-year-old. “Besides, God is always watching over me. I trust Him to take care of me.”

Melanie dropped her arms to her sides. Her aunt was stubborn.

“What about you?” Aunt Phoebe set the skillet in the sink, took off the gloves and reached for Melanie’s hand. She guided her to the kitchen table, and they each took a seat across from one another. “Not a day goes by I don’t think about you living alone in that big ol’ town house. The loss you’ve suffered is more than anyone should ever endure in a lifetime.” Aunt Phoebe reached over the bowl of Golden Delicious apples to wipe the tear that escaped Melanie’s eye. Her touch was warm. “God has a plan for you. He’ll carry you through this, but you must have faith. And in the end, you’ll find peace.”

Melanie yanked her hand from Aunt Phoebe’s grasp. She stood and paced the kitchen floor. “Why would God steal my family? They were my world, Aunt Phoebe.” She turned toward the kitchen window. A chipmunk hopped along the split-rail fence. “Where was He when my children were trapped inside a burning car, while their father did everything in his power to save them but died trying?”

“Oh child, God will bring you through this difficulty if you’ll open your heart to Him.”

Melanie shook her head. “I’m not sure I can believe in Him again. I did once. I really did...but not anymore.” She turned from the window and walked toward the table. Her throat parched, she reached for her glass of water and took three large gulps before placing it back on the table. “I didn’t come here to upset you—please believe me. It’s just—” she picked up the glass and drained it “—I can’t seem to get my life back on track. I don’t know how to live without my family.” Chill bumps peppered her skin as her aunt took her hand.

“Put your trust in God, and in time, peace will flourish.”

Melanie gave Aunt Phoebe’s hand a quick squeeze. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down for a little while—” her footsteps tapped across the hardwood floors before she turned back around and faced her aunt “—unless you need my help.”

“No, of course not. I’ve got everything under control.” She walked toward the sink.

Inside the guest room, Melanie gazed up at the cedar ceiling. Her hand gripped the cold doorknob as she slowly pushed the door shut.

Peace. She hadn’t felt it since the last time she kissed her girls and husband goodbye.

A cold chill ran through her blood when, across the room, she spied the gift she’d mailed to Aunt Phoebe on her last birthday. Sluggishly she walked toward the dresser and picked up the present.

She studied the photo inside the frame, and her eyes erupted with tears. It was from the last trip they’d taken to the beach as a family. Her husband, Jeff, had asked a stranger passing by to take their picture. Tan and smiling, they had an amazing life. Her hands trembled as she placed the frame on the dresser. She wanted to crawl inside the photo and be with her family one more time. Her body quivered, and instead she crawled into the bed and sobbed.

After what felt like hours, but had probably just been one, Melanie entered the kitchen to the sound of chicken sizzling in the skillet. “I’m sorry, Aunt Phoebe. I should be helping you.”

Her aunt flung the dish towel over her shoulder and brushed her hand across her forehead, leaving behind a trail of flour. “You need your rest.” She patted Melanie’s arm. “Besides, I’ve been cooking like this for over forty years. Making dinner for four is easy peasy.”

Melanie yanked a paper towel from the roll, turned on the faucet and swiped the towel under the water. “Here, let me at least do this.” She smiled. “You’ve got a little flour on your forehead,” she said, wiping away the powdery substance. She took in her aunt’s features. Despite a few wrinkles and hair as white as snow, her aunt still looked youthful.

“Thanks, dear. Oh, I think I hear a car.”

Melanie’s pulse rose. She listened to the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway. “I’ll go get the door,” she told her aunt. A chill traveled through her body as she walked toward the entrance. She wrapped her arms around herself. This wouldn’t be easy, but her aunt seemed happy, so she pasted a smile on her face and flung open the door. A flash of blond hair tore past Melanie.

The sound of prancing feet scurrying along the hardwood floor filled the room. “Phoebe, Phoebe...we’re here!”

She tried to catch her breath, her legs weak. She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t ready to be around children. Not yet. The child’s blond ringlets sprouting from her head bounced like rubber balls when she turned and headed back toward the door. Melanie glanced down when the girl stopped in front of her. She wore a yellow dress covered in red polka dots. Her shoes were patent leather, and exactly like the ones Melanie had purchased over a year ago. Her stomach wrenched.

“Hello, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Rebecca.” The child looked up, extended her tiny hand and grinned. The smile lit up her entire face. Wide-eyed, she turned toward the door. “And that’s my daddy.” She giggled. “Oh yeah, you already know him. Remember, he’s the one who rescued you yesterday. He’s right. You’re pretty.” She released her hand and raced toward Aunt Phoebe as she exited the kitchen.

Melanie’s stomach churned. Did he really think she was pretty? She might have misunderstood. He was probably talking about the nurse. What was her name again? Yes, Sara. She appeared to have a crush on Jackson. They were probably dating. Not that Melanie cared either way. She didn’t want anyone to think she was pretty. She didn’t want people to think anything of her—she wished she were invisible. It would have been much easier.

“Hello, Rebecca. You look lovely today.” Aunt Phoebe took the child into her arms and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

Rebecca pulled back, her arms still around Aunt Phoebe’s neck. Their noses nearly touched. “Guess what? I’m getting a puppy.”

In a daze, Melanie watched Rebecca. It seemed like an eternity since she’d felt a child’s arms around her neck. Would she ever feel the softness of children’s smooth and flawless skin? Would she ever smell the sweetness when they were fresh out of the bathtub? She jumped when a hand touched her shoulder, erasing her negative thoughts, at least for now.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with Jackson.

A slow smile moved across his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He held two bunches of pink roses. “These are for you.” He handed her one bunch. How did he know they were her favorite? Her father had given her pink roses when she’d graduated from law school. It was the last gift she’d received from him. A single rose, now brown and crinkled, remained in her memory book, along with photographs from her life before it’d ended.

“You didn’t scare me.” She accepted the roses and swiped the bouquet under her nose. It seemed forever since she’d smelled the sweet scent of fresh-cut roses. “They’re beautiful.” She took another sniff. “It was thoughtful of you to bring them. Thank you.”

His focus remained on her. “Your color is better today. How are you feeling?”

His scrutiny made her face burn, but somehow, in the last couple of minutes, she’d forgotten about the pain in her neck and the rest of her body aches. “I’m feeling okay. Thanks for asking.” She played with a strand of her hair.

“Hello, Jackson. What do you have there?” Aunt Phoebe wiped her hands down her Kiss the Chef apron.

He smiled and handed the other bouquet to Aunt Phoebe. “These are for you, a thank-you for having me and Rebecca over.”

“Dear, put these in some water. We’ll use them as the centerpiece.” She handed Melanie the roses. Melanie headed toward the kitchen, inhaling the fragrance once more. The clicking of tiny feet came from behind and she turned.

“I know where the vases are, Miss Melanie. Can I help?”

Startled by Rebecca’s enthusiasm, Melanie nodded. Without warning, Rebecca grabbed hold of her free hand and led her into the kitchen. Melanie’s heart melted. She wanted to cry, but instead, she forced a smile, allowing the hand to remain as they entered the kitchen.

Melanie watched Rebecca take command. She certainly knew her way around Aunt Phoebe’s kitchen, finding the exact cupboard where vases of all sizes and colors were stored.

“Do you like this one, Miss Melanie?” She turned holding a white vase with tiny yellow daisies covering the sides, and large enough for both bouquets. “I love daisies, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” Melanie straightened her shoulders. She could do this. All she had to do was make it through a couple of hours. Surely they wouldn’t stay longer than two hours. “I think it’s a perfect choice.”

Melanie filled the vase with water and carefully arranged the roses. “How do they look?”

Rebecca nodded and smiled. “They look beautiful. You’re really nice, Miss Melanie. Do you have any kids my age?”

The yellow walls began to close in around her, and the kitchen whirled. Melanie tried to make it to the table, but her legs were weak. She had to sit. Without warning, the vase slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor.

The sounds of muffled voices filled the room.

“Melanie! Are you okay?” Aunt Phoebe raced to her side. “Did you cut yourself?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Aunt Phoebe placed her hand across Melanie’s arm. “Do you feel dizzy? Maybe you should go lie down? I’ll keep the chicken warm in the oven.”

“No, please, I’m okay. Let me clean up this mess so we can eat,” Melanie announced and pushed her hair from her eyes.

Jackson stepped forward. “Rebecca and I will clean this up. Phoebe, take Melanie into the family room.”

“Daddy, is Miss Melanie okay? I just asked her if she had any kids my age, and she dropped the vase.”

Melanie glanced toward Jackson. Their eyes connected before she looked away. “I’m fine, Rebecca. The vase was wet. It just slipped. No big deal.” She turned and headed into the family room with her aunt.

“You should sit down for a while?” Phoebe guided her toward the leather sofa. “We’ll take care of things in the kitchen.”

Melanie wondered what Jackson and Rebecca must think of her. How could she enjoy a meal with them when she couldn’t even fill a vase with water? “I’m okay. I want to help.”

Her aunt just smiled. “Rest for a bit. I’ll call you when dinner’s on the table.” She turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Melanie flopped down on the sofa. She knew she wasn’t truly fine. Her reaction to Rebecca’s mention of children was proof she was still hurting inside. This past year, she’d lived in a murky world, simply going through the motions of each day. She didn’t care about anything or anyone. Her dramatic weight loss was proof that she didn’t care about herself, either. Heaviness staked out a permanent residence inside her chest. A lump formed in her throat, and the tears escaped down her cheeks. If she could have gone back in time, she would have been the one driving the car instead of her exhausted husband...but she couldn’t go back. Her family was gone, and she’d carry the guilt with her for the rest of her life.

* * *

An hour later, Jackson leaned back in his chair. He placed his hand on his stomach and rubbed in a circular motion. “Every time you make fried chicken, Phoebe, it’s crispier than the last batch.” He picked up his napkin and placed it to his lips. A quick look at Melanie’s plate proved what she’d said yesterday. She wasn’t a big eater. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Melanie? You’ve hardly touched your meal.”

She fingered her necklace. “I don’t have much of an appetite. Maybe it’s from the pain medication I’ve been taking.”

Phoebe picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes and scooped a heaping spoonful. “These always taste good to me when I have an upset stomach.”

Melanie nodded and held out her plate. Jackson watched while she picked at her food like a child. Finally she tried the mashed potatoes. “These are delicious.”

“So, Phoebe tells me you’re a divorce attorney. Sounds like interesting work.” Jackson snatched a pinch of corn bread and popped it into his mouth. “I’m sure it’s never dull.”

“My mommy and daddy got divorced,” Rebecca announced. “I don’t remember her. She left when I was really little.” She quickly looked down. “I’m sorry.”

Jackson observed Melanie place her hand on top of Rebecca’s hand. “It’s okay. You can talk about your mommy if you want to.”

He nodded when Rebecca looked at him for confirmation. “She had really dark hair, kind of like yours, but shorter. I have a picture of her on my nightstand. You can come see it sometime if you want to.” She smiled. “Daddy said she liked to dance, and she was a good singer, too.” She tucked a stray curl that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. “I think she left us to become famous.” Staring out the window, she placed her fist underneath her chin and tilted her head. “I think she’ll come back for me...for both of us, someday.”

Jackson’s heart ached for his daughter. The anger toward his ex-wife boiled to the surface every so often. Would the scars ever heal? Rebecca missed her, but it was a blessing she was too young to have witnessed her mother’s behavior. He’d rather she have good thoughts of her than remember the way things really were.

“Okay, who’s ready for a big hunk of Phoebe’s chocolate sour cream layer cake?” He looked at Melanie, and then Phoebe, and saw that both were wiping away tears.

Thankfully Rebecca hadn’t noticed how emotional the ladies had become. She sprang from her chair at the mention of the dessert. “I’ll get the plates and forks,” she yelled and ran toward the kitchen.

Phoebe cleared her throat. “I think I’ll go help.” She turned and shot a wink at Melanie. “I only allow one disaster a day in my kitchen.”

When her aunt left the room, Melanie turned to Jackson. “I wouldn’t call a broken vase a disaster.”

“She was only joking,” he said. “What happened in the kitchen earlier could have happened to anyone.” He sipped his iced tea. “I’m sorry if Rebecca upset you.”

The silence was deafening. Melanie played with the condensation on her glass. He studied her face and wished he could take away the sadness.

She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Your daughter is so sweet. Nothing she says could upset me. I guess I’m still rattled from the accident.”

Obviously she wasn’t going to share what really bothered her. He understood. They’d just met, and opening up to someone required trust, something he’d definitely lacked the past several years. “Jackson, I’m sorry about your wife. I’m sure it’s been difficult on you and Rebecca.”

He shrugged his shoulders, not ready to share, either. Yes, she was Phoebe’s niece, but he knew nothing about her. Less than twenty-four hours ago, their lives were separate from each other. Now, after an accident, their worlds had merged. But could he ever trust a woman who obviously didn’t put family first? She never visited her aunt though she lived only a couple of hours away. He wasn’t ready to confide in her, or any woman, for that matter.

“Rebecca and I get along fine.” He drained the last of his iced tea and reached for the pitcher. “Would you like some more?”

She shook her head.

Jackson filled his glass. “So, what prompted you finally to make a trip to see Phoebe? From what I understand, she’s been trying to get you to the valley for years. Too busy with your hotshot career, I suppose?”

She lifted her chin, and a moment passed before she spoke. “Like I mentioned yesterday at the hospital, I’ve come to convince Aunt Phoebe to move back to DC with me.” She held her shoulders straight, like a soldier in formation. “She’s getting older. It’s time she had family nearby.”

Jackson’s spine stiffened. “I didn’t think you were serious. Phoebe’s life is here.” His heart raced at the thought of Phoebe moving.

Melanie tapped her finger against her empty glass. “I’m her only family, Jackson. She belongs with me.” Her eyes kept a strong hold on his. “You asked what brought me here, and I told you. Can we please drop this conversation? I don’t want her to hear us. She needs time to adjust to the idea.”

“She won’t adjust,” he snapped. “Besides, she has family here—Rebecca and me.”

“You’re not blood, Jackson.”

“You don’t need the same blood in order to be family. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t take her away from the only life she knows and loves.” He bolted from the chair. It screeched along the hardwood floor.

“What in the world is going on out here?” Phoebe stood in the doorway with both hands on her hips.

“Melanie was just telling me a little more about your move.” He eyed Melanie, waiting for her to pounce.

Phoebe laughed. “We’ve discussed it already. I’m not moving and that’s final.”

“You haven’t had enough time to make a final decision.” Melanie walked toward her aunt and reached out for her hand.

Ignoring the extended hand, Phoebe paced the dining-room floor. “I don’t need more time.” She picked up her glass of water and took two long swigs. “What on earth has put such a crazy idea into your head? It needs to stop—now.”

Jackson took notice of Phoebe’s complexion. She looked pale, and tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. “Are you okay, Phoebe?”

She yanked a tissue from her apron pocket and blotted her forehead. “It’s just a little warm in here from the oven. I’m fine.” She slipped the tissue back into her pocket. “So, what do you think about Melanie’s plan, Jackson?”

He shook his head. “I think it’s a bad one. Your life is here with the people who love you.”

“I agree. And I won’t discuss this any further,” Phoebe announced.

“Wait, please,” Melanie said. “I’m not trying to ruin your life. I love you, and I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m staying put...end of discussion.” Phoebe turned and headed back to the kitchen.

Jackson ran his hand down the front of his face, relieved the conversation was over, at least for now.

Melanie, on the other hand, did not look pleased.

“Daddy, come quick!” Rebecca’s scream had him sprinting toward the kitchen like a jackrabbit.

He burst through the door and saw Phoebe lying on the floor.

Melanie entered the kitchen and gasped. “Jackson, help her.” She raced to her aunt’s side. “What’s happening?”

Jackson heard Phoebe’s garbled speech and noticed the side of her mouth was drooping. “She’s having a stroke. I’ve got to get her to the hospital. Now!”

Melanie gripped his wrist. “Shouldn’t we call for the ambulance?”

He shook his head. “No, we can’t wait.” He scooped Phoebe’s tiny frame into his arms and headed toward the door. “You take Rebecca in your car. Don’t try to keep up. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“Daddy... I’m scared.”

Jackson stopped at the front door and turned. “Everything will be okay. You go with Miss Melanie.”