Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
ELIZABETH
Coming Full Circle
The damp weight of my hair clings to my neck as I weave the three sections into a loose braid.
A few curled wisps escape and hang at my temples, but I decide the plait is good enough, if a little wonky.
Coming out of the bathroom, the bedroom fills with the steamy fragrance of the jasmine shampoo I used.
I unzip my suitcase and rifle through the shirts I packed until I find the one of Fallon’s I brought.
I lift the soft fabric of the shirt to my nose.
It’s lost a little of his scent after being in the suitcase.
Slipping my arms through the sleeves, I button it up and tuck my necklace underneath the collar, then tug on a pair of cotton lounge pants.
The bedroom looks the same as I left it when I went off to CU.
It’s nothing fancy, just a sparse room filled with some furniture—a bed, a desk, a chair, a chest of drawers—and the big blue yoga ball I used for the stretches and exercises that the physical therapist wanted me to do every day.
This room was my sanctuary after I was released from the medical facility, but it never felt like mine.
It never felt like home. Even when my memories were lost, I knew I didn’t belong here.
Standing at the window that faces west, the soft gold of the late afternoon sun breaks through the clouds as the rain tapers off into a falling mist. The grounds below are vibrantly wet and green, and the branches of the tall conifers look like they’re dripping diamonds as water droplets plink to the ground, pulled by gravity.
The rain was one thing I couldn’t get used to while living in Seattle.
As beautiful as it was, I craved sunshine.
Snagging my phone from the dresser, I sit down on the footboard of the bed. No new messages have come in since I texted Fallon and the kids after we landed, probably because they knew Jayson and I would be out at the gravesite all day.
Me: Miss you.
I didn’t expect to miss him so much, but I do.
When Fallon doesn’t reply after a few minutes, I pad barefoot out of the room and across the hallway to the guest room where Jayson will be sleeping.
The door is closed, but I can hear the faint sound of the shower through the pressed wood.
We were both a drenched, muddy mess by the time we got to Daniel and Drew’s.
I hope we don’t get sick after spending hours in the rain.
My guitar and the books I brought with me to read to Elizabeth Ann are unfortunately a lost cause.
I left the books laid out on the living room’s fireplace hearth to dry out, but there’s nothing I can do for my guitar.
Luckily, I was smart to bring the cheap one I bought on sale for fifty bucks, but I still feel guilty that it got damaged.
Making my way down the long hallway to the kitchen, I glance at the framed abstract artwork hanging in precise intervals along the walls.
Harper would love these paintings. Drew did most of them when he was going through chemo.
Each piece is filled with slashes of eye-catching color, much like a Jackson Pollock painting.
When I cross the foyer, I peer up at the high vaulted ceiling flanked by tall windows that are streaked with raindrops.
Hazy sunlight slants through the chandelier and across the polished floors, creating ribbons of colors like light refracted through a prism.
Another twenty feet, and the chef’s kitchen opens before me like something out of a design magazine—gleaming white marble countertops, stainless and champagne bronze appliances, brushed brass fixtures, and a center island as large as a queen-sized bed.
My reflection wavers in the glass of the top double oven when I go to get plates from the cabinet. God, I look pale. Rung out. The long day and jet lag must be catching up with me.
Setting the plates down on the counter island, I remove a spatula hanging from its hook along the backsplash and lift the lids of the two pizza boxes we picked up on our way here from the cemetery.
They’re no longer hot, but I don’t care.
Hot pizza, cold pizza—doesn’t matter. I’d eat about anything right now, I’m that hungry.
After sliding two slices of pepperoni and mushroom onto each plate, I look at my phone again. Still no reply from Fallon. Fallen Brook is three hours ahead of Seattle, so that makes it just after eight o’clock there.
Me (to family group chat): What are my babies up to?
I see three bouncing dots, so I know one of the kids is replying.
Marcus: I’m with Hannah. Everything ok?
Me: Yeah. We’re back at the house. About to have an early dinner. Have you spoken to Fallon at all today?
Marcus: No. Met up with Hannah right after work.
I worry my bottom lip.
Me: Didn’t mean to interrupt your date. Tell Hannah hi.
Marcus: eye roll emoji Good night, Mom.
“I forgot how big this house was,” Jayson says as he enters the kitchen. “I got lost. Wound up in some room that looks like a library.”
I think back to the last time Jayson was here. It was the first time we came to see Elizabeth Ann. I’ll have to give him another tour later.
“Daniel’s study. I love that room. Hungry?”
He sidles up next to me. His towel-dried hair curls up at the ends, and he smells like lavender. “Starving.”
I check my phone again, chastise myself for being ridiculous, then set it screen-down on the countertop.
“The kids all right?” Jayson inquires.
“Huh?” I reply distractedly, flipping my phone over just to make sure nothing came in in the last second. “Oh…yeah. Marcus is out on a date. I have no idea where everyone else is. I texted Fallon, but he hasn’t replied back.”
Jayson takes out his phone and puts it to his ear. “Hey, Jules…yeah…yeah, it was good…no…is Charlotte there with Grant? Hold on.” He puts it on speaker. “Could you tell Liz that so she’ll stop worrying?”
“I was not worrying,” I sharply refute, and Julien’s chuckle comes over the line.
“Fal took Charlotte and Chris to the Fields. Grant tagged along. He and Charlotte were going to go to a movie after.”
I completely forgot today is Friday.
“If you hear from them before I do, could you tell them to call me when they get home?”
“I will. Can I please get back to seducing my husband? We were kind of in the middle of something.”
The line cuts off.
“Guess we know what they’re doing,” Jayson says with a laugh.
“They still act like horny teenagers. Want to eat out on the patio? It stopped raining.”
He pulls a piece of pepperoni off his pizza and pops it into his mouth. “Won’t everything be wet?”
“The patio is covered. It has a gas fireplace.”
He picks up our plates. “Sold.”
I grab two bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and lead the way.
Through the double French doors, the back patio opens into a courtyard that overlooks the gardens.
It’s similar to the back property of the Montgomery estate and includes an Olympic-sized swimming pool and tennis courts.
Daniel and Drew never sold this place when they uprooted and moved to Fallen Brook to be closer to me and the kids; however, they do return a few times a year to visit friends and always come for Elizabeth Ann’s birthday.
“I guess they put the other patio furniture into storage after we were here in June,” I comment when we get outside to find no tables or chairs, only the large outdoor sectional facing the fireplace.
Jayson wearily groans when he sits down and kicks up his feet on the chaise lounge side of the couch. “I’m getting old.”
Turning the gas on, I get a fire started to help chase away the dampness of the evening air. “That word is forbidden.”
He salutes me with his sparkling water. “It’s how I feel. Old and tired.”
Joining him, I tuck my legs to the side and take my plate from him. Jayson is already done eating before I start on my first slice.
“Bite your tongue. I’ll be old when I’m eighty.” The low hum of the fire has a drowsy effect, like white noise in the background, and I yawn as I take a bite of pizza.
“You just proved my point.” He settles back into the cushions and rubs circles on his temples.
“Headache?”
“The joys of flying,” he replies.
“My ears still haven’t decompressed. I took some ibuprofen. Want me to get you some?”
“It’s not bad.”
“Did you try doing the Valsalva maneuver to pop your ears?”
He snorts good-humoredly. “Yes, Dr. Cutton.”
Moving over to make space, I stretch out my legs and pat my lap. “Come here.”
Jayson lies down, his head finding a perfect resting spot on my thigh. With gentle strokes, the soft strands of his dark-brown hair settle between my fingers like they used to, back when we were just kids lying under the stars.
“I think we should talk about it,” he says after a moment. My hand stills its movements, and the silence stretches between us—not heavy or angry—just fragile, like lace made of ice. “It’s okay to talk to me about it. You don’t have to protect me.”
That breaks something inside me. “Yes, I do. You’ve fought so hard to be here. To be you again.”
“No matter what you tell me, I’m not going anywhere,” he replies.
I let out a breath, the kind I didn’t even know I’d been holding, and go back to rubbing his head. “I said yes.”
“I know.”
I glance down, and he’s staring straight up at me. In his eyes, I see our past and the love we shared and lost, like a tattered photograph you keep because you can’t bear to throw it away.
“I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
He nods slowly.
“I love him.”
“I know, Liz.” Jayson shifts slightly, his cheek brushing against my leg. My hand cups the side of his face, fingertips sweeping the curve of his jaw. He nestles into my touch. “Just be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
Tears slide down my cheeks before I even feel them coming. I bend over as far as I can and press a soft kiss to his forehead, letting it linger longer than I should.
Rain-cooled air sweeps through the patio, causing a chill to race down my spine and raise goose bumps all over my skin.
“I will always love you,” I whisper.
“First, last, and always,” he quietly replies.
I stroke his hair again, and for a long time we just sit there—two people who once held each other’s hearts. And maybe that’s the hardest part. Knowing that the love we had remains, even when the shape of what we once were has changed.