Chapter 27
27
Besides Gloria’s brief visit, Molly spent the rest of her Sunday alone, a rare occurrence since moving to Clifton Falls. Often, she’d have brunch with CeCe, Luka, and the Lime Tree Hill crew, but that weekend, she needed time to breathe. To clean her house, shop for groceries, and wrap her gifts for the Sinclairs.
That evening after dinner, she opened her closet and removed the pillowcase from the top shelf. With the drumsticks and photo book in hand, she sat on the bed, studying the words written in black ink for possibly the last time.
Jesse Sinclair.
The smoothness of the hickory beneath her fingers comforted her, and Molly gave thanks to Jesse for his roundabout way of showing her that he cared.
Armed with paper, scissors, and tape, Molly wrapped both items separately and tied them with neat bows, then slipped them into her bag for the following day.
After work on Monday, with the wrapped drumsticks and photo book on the passenger seat, her mood upbeat as she thought of Jake and how he’d react, Molly drove from the CBD, through several sets of lights, and turned onto Seaview Road.
When she pulled up outside the patisserie, the closed sign was already hanging in the window, but she could see Ari inside, wiping down the tables before placing the chairs on top.
She knocked on the front door, and he opened it, flashing his usual charismatic smile. “Hey, you want to see the boss?”
“Yes, is he still here?”
“He is. I’ll leave you to it, or I’ll be late for rugby practice.”
“Thanks, Ari.”
Jake appeared from the back storeroom, wiping his hands on his apron and flaunting that lazy smile she’d come to love. Butterflies still danced in her stomach every time they met, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “Hi, I’m glad you’re still here.”
He leaned in for a kiss but seemed a little distant. “Yeah, just organizing a few things for the morning. You hungry?”
“No. But I’d love a decaf if you have time.”
“Coming right up.”
Molly sat at the table closest to the kitchen while Jake fired up the staff coffee machine, and as the Barista Express hissed and dripped into the cups, she recalled their Saturday evening with a sense of contentment. The way Jake read to her without embarrassment and the warmth of his arms around her as they drifted off to sleep after their bath—after their mind-blowing sex.
Coffee made, Jake set both cups on the table and took a seat opposite her.
“I’ve brought you a gift.” She reached into her bag and offered the drumsticks across the table.
“What is it?”
“Just something I figured you might like.”
Molly studied him as he unwrapped the package, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. When Jesse first sent them to her, she’d taken those drumsticks everywhere. They’d laid on the back seat of her car, on her bedroom desk; they’d even accompanied her on an Australian holiday once, slotted into the side pocket of her suitcase. Their presence somehow gave her hope.
But a week after that holiday, while back home in Tulloch Point, Molly finally questioned why—with no further contact from Jesse—the autographed drumsticks held such a special place in her heart, and she knew it was time to pack them away. So, with the sticks wrapped in the pillowcase, Molly climbed the stairs to the attic and tucked them away in the glory box—out of sight but not quite out of mind.
Jake’s posture stiffened. He held the sticks in both hands as if about to drum a beat on the table in front of him. “Where did you get these?”
“Jesse gave them to me. Well, he sent them to my parents’ house about a month after our last night together. He didn’t include a note or even a return address, and I always wondered why he bothered, especially after the fact.”
“And you’re giving them to me?”
As a wave of melancholy swept over her, Molly simply nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak as she considered his expression.
“Thank you,” he said finally. “These are unique.”
“Unique? In what way?”
Still lost in his thoughts, Jake continued to stare at them. “He said they were the last thing from his band days that he put his name to. He only ever autographed one pair.”
“How do you know that?”
Jake ran his fingertips over his brother’s name. “I was there at the time and handed him the Sharpie.”
“Was this after his diagnosis?”
“Yes. After his first chemo treatment.”
Jake’s expression saddened, and as she studied his striking face, Molly wanted to pull him in for a long hug. But the timing didn’t seem right.
“Jesse said they were a gift for a girl he’d fallen in love with but had to leave behind.”
Molly lifted a palm to her chest. “And you think it was me?”
“Who else? He never told you that he loved you?”
She recalled their last night together. Jesse had indeed said those words, but in the weeks that followed, as she navigated the pain of his cruel rejection, she’d convinced herself it was just a slip of his drunken tongue.
“He did, but we’d both been drinking, and words don’t always count when you’re high on summer lust and cheap red wine. Your brother said a lot of things after a few too many vinos.”
“That’s true.” Jake relaxed. “I often wondered who the girl was.”
“You never asked him?”
“I did once. He told me to eff off. Before then, I’d always got the impression that he’d never been in love. It saddened me.” He held her gaze, his barely there smile like a whisper. “Everyone needs to fall in love. At least once. To have that excitement of anticipation and the thrill of the chase. It’s the best feeling in the world. You know that.”
Molly nodded. But she hadn’t known, not until very recently, at least. Sure, she’d been in lust, in infatuation, in way too deep with men she should have known better about, but her feelings for Jake were like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Heartfelt, more meaningful, and now, she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
“I actually searched for these after he died but couldn’t find them. They were lying around in his room for a while… during his first treatment, so I assumed he’d never sent them.”
His words drew Molly out of her self-reflection, and she smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned them sooner.”
“Not at all. Jesse gave them to you.”
Molly sensed a shift in his mood—a need to be alone with his thoughts, perhaps. “Anyway, I should go. Let you finish up.”
They both stood at the same time, the drumsticks in his hands. “Thank you for these. I really appreciate you thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome.” She walked to the door, her breathing measured as she pulled on the handle.
Locked.
“We took drumming lessons together. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No.” She turned to face him. “Do you still play?”
“Haven’t since high school. But I have Jesse’s kit in my spare room, so you never know.” Jake took her hands, leaned forward, and gently kissed her. “Thank you,” he whispered for the second time, then reached behind her and unlocked the door.
Molly brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her hand trembling as an awkwardness jostled between them. “What are you doing later in the week?” she asked. “I thought I might cook you dinner one night.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Great.”
On her way home, Molly stopped outside Jake’s mother’s house, slotted the photo book into the mailbox, and drove away. Whether Hazel and Henry would appreciate her gift, she had no idea. But she’d made the gesture and felt better for it.
Molly took a detour down to the waterfront and, in a split-second decision, pulled into a parking space adjacent to the gates of the botanical gardens. She tightened her scarf against the crisp air and strolled along the path beside perfectly manicured beds, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she mulled over the significance of the autographed drumsticks and how she’d once wanted to return them to their sender. No note, no explanation.
Across the bridge to her left, radio-controlled yachts dotted the rippled waters of the pond, and in the distance, two little kids rode their scooters toward the swings. And as Molly took the circuit around the winter garden conservatory, passing hungry pigeons and white swans full of grace, that sadness remained.
Jesse’s last autograph.