The Last Autograph (A Reluctant Kiss #3)

Chapter 28

28

Jake stayed at the patisserie until after six. When he arrived at his mother’s house for dinner, the table was already set, and as he took in the three place-settings, a wave of nostalgia struck him head-on.

Three—what a sad little number. Even the word had a certain melancholy about it.

She walked in from the back door, several sprigs of parsley in her hand. “There you are. I was beginning to think I’d be eating on my own.”

Jake stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, it’s been one of those days.”

She frowned at him. “I worry about you.”

“I know. But don’t… I’m fine.”

“And what about Molly Parker? Have you seen her lately?”

“Just this afternoon, actually.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t approve.”

Jake didn’t have it in him to argue. He just wanted to eat dinner in peace and go home for an early night. “Noted.”

“Look, I’ve tried to keep an open mind, but that woman had some kind of hold over Jesse, and now it seems she’s moved on to you.” His mother crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine and two cans of beer. “And I can’t shake the suspicion that she’s after everything she can get her hands on.”

“You’re judging her unfairly?—”

“Oh, come on. She didn’t even have the decency to attend Jesse’s service, but as soon as there’s money up for grabs, she appears on your doorstep, shedding crocodile tears.” She peered out the window that faced the driveway. “Where’s your father? I told him dinner was at six thirty sharp.”

“Hold your horses.” His dad’s voice boomed along the hallway. “I’m here.”

He entered the room and placed a package on the kitchen counter. His gaze darting between the two of them, he frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Jake was just telling me about that Molly Parker.”

His dad pulled the tab on a can of beer and took a sip. “Well, she’s actually a very nice girl. I met her at the art auction, and she’s absolutely delightful. Has a real way about her.”

She huffed. “Trust you to say that.”

“What do you expect me to say? She was Jesse’s friend, and that’s good enough for me.”

Jake set a green salad on the table and then turned to his father once they both sat. “I have the drumsticks.”

“What drumsticks?” his mother asked as she served lasagna onto their plates.

He recalled Molly’s visit and her expression when he explained their significance—her sadness or, possibly, regret. “The autographed ones I looked for after Jesse died. Molly had them all along.”

“No.” She sat at the head of the table. “Are you sure they’re the same ones?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Jesse sent them to her parents’ place after his first chemo treatment.”

“That can’t be true,” she said. “Jesse wouldn’t do that without telling us.”

“Perhaps in a normal life, but his life was far from normal at that point,” his father said. “He believed he was dying. How could anyone have known he’d go into remission, especially him?”

“Well tell me this, if she meant so much to him, why didn’t he try to find her again?”

“Maybe he did,” Jake said.

“Or perhaps he didn’t want to disrupt her life,” Henry offered. “We need to remember that they were just a couple of kids having a bit of summer fun.”

She turned to her son. “And what does Molly have to say about all this?”

“She seemed shocked when I explained their significance,” Jake replied. “Typical Jesse, there was no note in the package or even a return address. Now she’s given them to me—so we can keep them in the family.”

They sat in silence for a moment. His mother was the first to speak. “So now that you know the truth, is that the end of this unfortunate charade?”

“What charade?”

“Well, if Jesse gave Molly those drumsticks, that means she was the love of his life. You can’t take that away from him. And I won’t have her using you as a substitute for your brother. It would break my heart.”

Jake felt the weight of her words but remained silent. It was the best way to deal with his mother, who tended to voice her opinions before she’d had time to censor them.

“He’s gone, Hazel,” his father murmured. “Jesse’s gone. And Jake needs to live his life as he sees fit.”

“I know that, Henry, but why should that make any difference? She was and, in my mind, always will be his. Not Jake’s girl. Jesse’s girl.”

Jesse’s girl. Wasn’t there a song with that title? As for her “substitute” comment, all he could think was, what the actual fuck?

“You can’t ask Jake to choose,” his father continued. “That would be highly unfair.”

Hazel pouted. “I can, and I will.”

Jake lay his silverware on his plate and inhaled a steadying breath. “Would you both stop? Just stop. I’m an adult, not some lovesick teenager, and this subject is now closed.”

“And what about you and Ava?” his mother asked.

He sighed deeply. “There is no me and Ava. You know that.”

“More’s the pity. That’s all I can say.”

They finished their meal in virtual silence, Jake in a funk he couldn’t seem to shake. The nostalgia, the table set for three. Jesse’s girl. Jake the Substitute. Yet he struggled through. Nodded in all the right places. Declined seconds. Insisted he was too full for dessert.

It wasn’t until he and his father had finished the dishes that his mother noticed the package on the counter. “What’s this?”

“No idea,” his father said. “Why don’t you open it and find out? It was in the mailbox.”

After giving her ex-husband a dirty look, she picked up the package and tore it open. She sank onto a chair at the island. “It’s a photo book.”

Jake glanced her way. “A photo book? Who from?”

“Oh my gosh. It’s photos… of Jesse.” His mother covered her mouth with one hand as she flipped through the pages, and when Jake stepped closer, her eyes were misted with tears.

She handed him the attached card, asking him to read it aloud. Jake scanned the text, then spoke.

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair,

“I met Jesse the summer he lived in Tulloch Point. We struck up a friendship at a party out at the beach, and over the following weeks, we spent many wonderful hours together.

“I’d just received a new camera from my parents as an early Christmas gift, so everywhere we went, I took photos of our adventures, as he called them.

“I thought you might like a record of some of those times and hope you will accept this gift as it’s intended.

“Best wishes,

“Molly Parker.”

“Look, Henry,” his mother said. “Photos… of Jesse. How wonderful.”

When it came time for Jake to leave, his mother held him tight while whispering, “I’m sorry,” through her tears.

By contrast, his father’s firm handshake and slap on the back were equally meaningful, and as Jake sat in his truck and slotted the key into the ignition, he failed to keep his emotions in check. Through her camera lens, Molly had captured his twin with an awareness that surprised him, and for Jake, the turmoil was immediate.

He picked up his phone to call her but, with a second thought, dropped it back into the console. What would he say? That he missed Jesse so much it made him feel physically ill?

That he only just made it back to Clifton Falls in time, and he struggled to forgive himself for putting his needs before his brother’s…

That he felt overwhelmed with confusion because he couldn’t imagine life without her, even if she was once Jesse’s girl…

That he was falling in love with her?

His eyes blurring with emotion, Jake traveled down the hill, over the bridge, and onto the Eastern Pacific Highway. It was just after ten when he reached Petrie Bay, and as he drove onto the beach track and headed for the thicket of pines, a shimmer of moonlight slipped across the water.

He dozed in his truck until dawn, then strolled along the shore as the sun rose above the bay. Later, as he sat on the dunes while watching several surfers brave the water, he realized he couldn’t face going into work. Not today. Instead, he returned to his truck and drove to Lime Tree Hill’s farm-gate store to grab something to eat before heading to the falls, where he spent the rest of the day hiking along Iron Ridge.

As dusk descended, Jake pulled up outside the cemetery and parked to the left of the chapel entrance. The gates were locked. Not that it mattered, as the stone wall surrounding the cottage-style church was less than a meter high.

With the light on his phone illuminating the way, Jake stumbled past the now-spent rose garden to his brother’s final resting place. While he hadn’t been back since the funeral, it seemed fitting that in a day full of unchecked emotions, Jesse was his last call.

Jake crouched and placed his palm flat against the headstone. He talked to his twin about the bakery and its astounding success. Next, he spoke of their mother, the way her grief had almost destroyed her, but how he believed she was finally making her way back to some semblance of acceptance. Lastly, he moved on to Molly. How he didn’t understand why she’d come into his life when she did, his initial reluctance to accept her, and how, despite his best intentions, falling in love with her had been inevitable, then his conflicted feelings after the fact.

As Jake fastened his jacket collar against the chill, his thoughts turned to Molly in the bakery, watching him with tenderness as he opened her gift, her eyes wide when he explained the significance of that last autograph.

Was he merely a substitute for his twin, as his mother claimed? Her conviction would suggest so, and when Jake left Jesse’s grave, he made it only as far as the chapel before his grief overcame him.