Cinnamon Bay

Chapter 19

Nineteen

September 8

I don’t remember much about what happened last night, but Jack explained everything when I woke up in a strange bed this morning.

No, I wasn’t in Jack’s hotel room. Last night’s attack sent me into shock, so emergency services took me to the hospital, where I was treated with oxygen and fluids and then monitored while I slept overnight.

“Thank you, Dr. Grillo,” Jack is saying now. He awkwardly shakes her hand with his left. His right hand—the one that punched Ben—is wrapped in bandages.

“Isa, you take care. Everything looks good.” She puts her hand on my good knee. “Just remember, for the grade one whiplash, ice and Advil for the next week, then switch to heat and stop the Advil. Take Tylenol for pain. You’ll be sore, and you need more rest. But”—she squeezes and I jump—“given time, you should be good as new.”

“And my baby?” I ask.

“She’s doing great! Exactly where I would expect her to be.”

She? I’m having a girl? Since I don’t have the best insurance, I declined the optional gender scan at 20 weeks.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. The sonogram tech didn’t tell you?” Dr. Grillo looks through my records. “Oh, yes. Definitely a girl.”

“Wow!” After two boys, I’m having a girl. I wonder if raising her will be different from raising her brothers? My mind is a whirl as Dr. Grillo congratulates me, then excuses herself from the room.

Kissing my forehead carefully and tucking my now-dry, matted hair behind my ear, Jack looks into my eyes, “I never should have let you leave. I’m so sorry.”

“Jack, why are you here?” I reach for my necklace, for the reassurance of my starfish. But my neck is empty.

“I couldn’t spend another day on the island without you?—”

“What are you staring at?”

Jack is looking hard at my neck, as if to see something that isn’t there. I look down too, and comprehension dawns.

“The necklace you gave me—it’s gone. Ben tore it off me.” I fold my hands in my lap to keep my fingers from twitching. I love that necklace; it really means a lot to me. But that’s Ben, always destroying what I care about.

Someone knocks at the door and pushes it open. A police officer pokes his head into the room. “May I come in?”

“Yeah.” I want to get this over with so I can go home. “We’ll talk later,” I whisper to Jack.

“Ms. Cushing. I’m Officer Anderson with the Scarborough Police Department. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you.” I shift my weight in the bed and pull the sheet up a little higher. “What happened to Ben?”

“Your ex-husband?” he asks, like there’s another person who tried to kill me and then passed out after I spit on him. “Oh, yes. He’s been admitted. When he regains consciousness, we’ll arraign him, and the court will decide where we go from there.”

“Regains consciousness? But he tried to go after Jack after Jack punched him. He only dropped after I stopped him.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment. I’ve never spit on anyone in my life, and I hope I never have to again.

“I take it Mr. Cushing liked his alcohol.” I nod as the officer continues his explanation. “From what the ER doc could tell, between the effects of alcoholism on his cardiovascular system and the intense anger Mr. Kendall reported him experiencing, Mr. Cushing had an”—he studies his notes—“intracerebral hemorrhagic stroke.”

“Wow,” I breathe.

“The ER doc also informed me that patients with this kind of incident usually recover in four weeks or less.”

“Four weeks?!” Jack sounds as gobsmacked as I feel.

“How, how did you find us?” I ask, suddenly curious. “I didn’t have a good cell signal.”

“You were able to get a call out to 911, and they were able to pinpoint your location. The signal wasn’t strong enough to carry your voice, but it broadcast your location loud and clear.”

I shiver. Suzanne’s not gonna believe this when I tell her.

Suzanne! I turn toward the bedside table automatically, but it’s empty. “My phone! What happened to my phone?”

“We found your cell phone near your car,” Officer Anderson says. “Unfortunately, the screen is shattered, and the device won’t turn on.”

“Suzanne must be worried sick! We have coffee together every morning.”

Jack reaches over from his seat beside the bed and squeezes my hand. “We’ll go back to Suzanne’s house as soon as they release you.” He looks to the policeman. “Is there anything more you need from us?”

“No, not today. You get some rest.” Officer Anderson steps out into the hallway, where he pauses to speak with a woman dressed in a blue blazer and matching skirt. She keeps looking in at me and Jack. Probably some reporter wanting a story for the six-o’clock news, and now it’s even juicer that Jack is involved.

The woman knocks on the door jamb. “Hi, Isa? May I come in?”

Jack must sense my uneasiness because he says, “I would rather you respect her privacy. She isn’t ready to speak to the press.”

“I’m a social worker with Maine OCFS. My name’s Eliza Bennett. I’d like to speak to you about Cole and Luke.” My blood runs cold as she steps closer. My boys! I hope Ben’s actions haven’t put them in danger. “How are you feeling?”

“I—I—I’m doing okay, but how are my boys?” Jack squeezes my hand, and I cling to it like a limpet.

“I was called in because your ex-husband has been arrested. Again.” I watch her lips move; I didn’t think anyone real actually worked at OCFS, yet here someone is. “I wanted to come in person to speak with you.” She gives me a kind smile. “You didn’t answer your phone when I called earlier, but now I understand why.”

“Where are my boys? Are they with Ben’s mother? He thinks I reported him to you.”

“First, we were closely monitoring the situation because of his arrest for intoxicated driving with the children in his car. And second, we have them. One of my colleagues has taken them out for breakfast. Your in-laws didn’t want responsibility for two young boys while they’re waiting for their son to awake from a coma.

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll ask the court to grant an emergency custody order giving you full custody of the boys. Considering what Mr. Cushing did to you and his previous arrest, the judge will almost certainly grant you custody. With our recommendation, of course.”

“What?” I can’t get air into my lungs. “I can have my boys back?” An alarm going off on the machine next to my bed startles me, and I’m suddenly able to breathe again. I look at Jack and burst into tears. He stands up and pushes the chair away so he can lean in and hug me, oh so carefully.

“Yes, darlin’. Ya have your boys back.” Jack rubs my back as I cry into his shirt.

“Of course, there will be a hearing in the next week or so to make this a permanent order,” Anne says. “I’ll testify on your behalf and give my recommendations in person.”

“Thank you.” The tears rolling down my face are happy tears. Very happy tears. “Thank you. When will you bring them?”

“Once you’re back home and settled, one of you can call me on this number”—she hands me a business card—“and I’ll bring them over.”

I clap my hands and thank the universe that the terrible event last night led to something amazing.

“I hope you feel better,” Anne says. “Hopefully this news helps.”

“Oh, it does! I’ll see you soon.”

I’m overjoyed. First Jack is back in my life—and boy, does he have questions to answer—and now the boys are coming home.

Once Dr. Grillo gives the all-clear, Jack drives me back to the carriage house. Suzanne runs out when we pull up the driveway.

“Isa! Oh my God! Are you alright?” Suzanne launches herself at Jack’s rental car as soon as he parks. “Let me look at you!” She throws the door open and stops, waiting for me to unbuckle myself. Once I’ve swung around and put my feet on the ground, she takes my hands in hers and pulls me up to stand in front of her. She hugs me gently, then steps back to get a good look at the physical signs of trauma. “I heard it was Ben. And he’s been stalking you for a while?”

“Who told you that?” Jack asks since neither one of us could have told her what happened.

“Remember Darin Walker from school? He likes to listen to the emergency radio scanner. He heard the hullabaloo last night and knows I live out this way, so he messaged me to let me know what happened. Wow! When Ben wakes up, he’s gonna be in a lot of trouble!” Suzanne almost sings the last word, breaking it into two long syllables.

“You can’t even get beat up by your ex-husband without the whole town knowing,” I grumble.

“More like the whole state because you-know-who saved you.” With every syllable, Suzanne points at Jack with one finger, then the other.

“Wonderful,” I mutter as I start toward the carriage house, but Jack interrupts before I can take another step.

“Isa saved herself.” I’ve never heard Jack so serious. His Southern drawl is gone, his consonants crisp, vowels short. “Isa is strong and determined and every bit the hero the media is trying to make me out to be. I might sing and play a little guitar, but Isa here is the real star.”

“Oh!” Suzanne gasps. When I look over, her eyes are bright and shining, her hands clasped under her chin. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was watching the latest Hallmark romance.

I don’t know how to handle this Jack, so I deflect. “Luke and Cole will be here soon. Well, they will if I can borrow your phone. May I?”

“They’re coming today? Now?” Suzanne squeals and bounces on her toes. “Of course you can borrow my phone, silly.” She pulls the device from her pocket, unlocks it, and hands it to me. “You call and get those precious babies home.”

After I’ve called Eliza Bennett and arranged for the boys to be delivered after morning naps, I wearily climb the stairs to my apartment above the garage. Jack shadows me up the steps. I guess this is what we do now.

My muscles are stiffening up, and a shower will feel so good. I say as much to Jack, and he’s kind enough not to remind me of Dr. Grillo’s instructions. I can do ice packs on my neck later. Right now, the rest of me needs hot water.

“May I help?” he asks.

“Sure.”

In the bathroom, I unbutton my blouse and slide it off, revealing more black-and-blue marks than I initially counted. The bruises will get uglier before they get better. The pain will fade too. Before we left, Dr. Grillo suggested I see a therapist to help me deal with the trauma of the attack. My mind is protecting me by withholding the memories, she said, so it would be ideal to put some coping skills in place now for when they return.

Therapy is a good idea. Seeking professional help is a theme that came up often in the divorce recovery books I read in St. John. Now that I’ll be parenting the boys again, though, I won’t have any money for extras like counseling. Maybe I can find some helpful books in the Kennebunk Library. It’s high time I went back and thanked Martha Sullivan and the other members of the Friends group. They need to know how much that raffle prize changed my life.

Jack joins me in the bathroom after raiding the kitchen for plastic wrap. I help him wrap his hand so moisture can’t get into his bandages, then he tunes the water to the perfect temperature and undresses down to his boxers. He helps me into the shower, then steps in after me, holding me by the shoulders as I adjust to the spray.

At first, the water feels like needles stabbing my skin, but it soon feels good. Eventually, I relax enough to melt into Jack’s arms. He’s quiet as he gently washes my hair—I poured the shampoo into his palm—and then runs my bath pouf over my body, finishing by rinsing me off.

When I’m ready to get out, Jack jumps out and manages to wrap a towel around his waist before holding one up for me to step into. He softly pats me dry and helps me step into panties and then pull on an oversized sweatshirt. He holds the hair dryer while I wield the brush until my hair is mostly dry.

“You look exhausted.” Jack says as he shuts off the appliance. “I’ll be on your couch.”

“No,” I sleepily protest. “I want you here with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Let me finish drying off and put on some dry clothes, and then I’ll join you.” He walks me over to the bed and tucks me into my flannel sheets. I snuggle in, so cozy, so loved. I want to stay awake until he comes to bed, but my body is demanding I sleep.

I’m fading quickly as I hear him say, “I’ve set an alarm for noon.”

What a thoughtful, thoughtful man.

“I missed you so much. I should have come sooner.” Jack’s voice is soft, and his breath is warm on the nape of my neck as he presses his lips against my skin.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

And then I sleep.

Jack’s alarm pulls me from a deep sleep.

“Good mornin’, sunshine.” His drawl is back, I realize as he kisses my neck, picking up where he left off last night. “Can I make you some coffee and lunch?”

“Lunch, yes, but no coffee. I usually have that with Suzanne at her house, so I don’t have any here.”

Jack jumps up. “Lunch, it is!”

“I have sandwich fixings, and that’s about it,” I holler as I hear his rustles in the kitchen. “And how are you gonna manage with one hand bandaged?”

He doesn’t answer, and I shake my head as I sit up very slowly. Or, I intend to shake my head, but my neck reminds me it was thrown around only yesterday and screams at me. I need to scrounge up some painkillers.

Moving my feet from under the covers takes effort, and I grunt as I stand. I’m so stiff, I feel like I was hit by a truck. Maybe because I was. I laugh out loud when I make the real-life connection to the cliché, then wince. Alright, so laughing is out for the time being.

In the bathroom, I ease my sweatshirt over my head and examine myself in the mirror again. I look like hell. It might be my imagination, but my bruises seem to have darkened even in the few hours I slept. I don’t want to scare the boys, so I pat a little makeup on the visible bruises. Thank goodness my face doesn’t look like my chest, all covered with blacks and blues. I get dressed and go out to see Jack, who has somehow managed to make two passable-looking sandwiches.

“The boys will be here soon.”

“I can’t wait to meet them.” He holds out his arms, and I cuddle close, careful of my sore spots.

“We’re still due a very long talk, mister,” I say. “Don’t you forget.”

Jack and I wait with Suzanne on her front porch. My body might be the picture of chill in the luxury patio set, but my mind is racing a mile a minute. I wish my phone wasn’t broken. What if Anne changed her mind and decided not to bring my boys back because it’s Sunday and she doesn’t have official permission to return them to me? What if Ben’s parents decided they want to keep the boys after all?

My worries are interrupted when a car slowly drives by the house and turns up the driveway. I can see two little blond heads in the back seat. I wonder if she told the boys they were coming to see me.

“I hope they still like me.” I start shaking, I’m so nervous. “It’s been almost nine months since I’ve seen them.” I rub my belly where their sister is kicking. “They’ve changed so much, and I’ve changed too.”

Jack takes my hand as the three of us stand up and walk down to the car.

The boys are watching us as we draw closer. “Momma? It’s Momma!” Their little voices are muffled by the closed window. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’m supposed to go to them.

Eliza Bennett gets out of the car. “Would you like to get Luke out? I’ll get Cole.”

My injuries are forgotten as I run up to the car and open the door, tears flowing down my face. “Luke! Oh, Luke!” My fingers tremble as I undo the buckle on his booster seat.

Luke throws his arms around me. “Momma! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I looked for you too, little buddy. I missed you so much.” I hold him in my arms, never wanting to let him go again. The pain from the previous night is gone, overshadowed by the joy I feel right now.

Cole runs into me and grabs my leg. “Momma!”

I set Luke down on the ground and kneel so I’m at their level. I hug both of them together, one in each arm. “I love you guys so much.”

I pull back and inspect them. “Let me look at you! You’re both all grown up.”

“Momma, where’ve you been?” Cole asks. “You missed my birthday.”

“I’ve had to take care of a few things. I’ve missed you something terrible.”

Luke pokes at my tears. “Don’t cry, Momma.” He hugs me again and pats my back the way I used to calm him down when he cried. “Don’t cry. Everything will be okay.”

I hug him back. “It’s okay to cry, Luke. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for crying. Besides, these are happy tears.”

I stand up and take one little hand in each of mine. “I want you two to meet some very special friends. This is Suzanne, and this is Jack.”

“Hi, Suzanne!” Cole shouts. “Hi, Jack!” I smile. Cole has always been the loud one.

“Hi.” Luke sticks close to me, but waves at Suzanne and Jack. My older son tends to be the quiet, observant one. I wonder how my daughter will fit in. What will her personality be like?

Eliza joins us on the passenger side of the car. She hands me a folder, and I let go of Luke’s hand to tuck it under my arm. He’s quick to put his hand back in mine when I offer it. “You have two very charming little boys.”

“Thank you so much for everything you have done to help us.”

“You’re very welcome. I’ll be in touch.” She returns to the driver’s seat and backs out of the driveway, leaving my family unit of one suddenly tripled in size.

The boys are attached to me, one on each side. No one will ever take them from me again. Ever.

Sept. 12

“Granted!” With a flourish, the judge signs off on the paperwork in front of him. “Good luck, Ms. Cushing, to you and your boys.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” It’s done! It’s over! Ben’s still in a coma, and his parents didn’t show up. Suzanne stayed home to watch the children so Jack and I could see the judge. Her support has been invaluable. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I hope that someday Ben will love himself and his family enough to be part of his sons’ lives again. He’s hurt all of us, and we all have a lot of healing to do, but people can change. I hope for all our sakes’ he does.

The ride back to Prouts Neck seems longer than usual, and I tense as we drive past the place where Ben attacked me. I don’t let go of Jack’s hand the whole drive. “Thank you for being here. I don’t think I could have been this strong without your support.”

“Isa, you’re a lot stronger than ya give yourself credit for.” He squeezes my hand. “Remember, ya saved yourself.”

I think on that, and we ride in a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive.

Suzanne is waiting for us as we pull into the driveway. “How did it go?”

“As planned. All done,” Jack calls as he emerges from his side of the vehicle.

“Well, that’s a relief. If Ben could’ve been there, the judge probably would have asked him, ‘Why are you such a piece of shit?’” Suzanne laughs. “That would have sent him into a rage and he would’ve been thrown in jail for contempt.”

I laugh too, even though it’s sad that the boys’ father has put us through all this pain. I really hopes he figures his life out.

“Speaking of, where are the boys?” I rub my fingers over the nonexistent starfish and look around the yard. I’m suddenly tense, and my heart beats wildly. I’m frantic. Where are the boys? Where are they?

“Isa, it’s okay,” Suzanne says soothingly. “They’re taking a nap upstairs in the main house. Do you want me to wake them?”

“No, no. Let them sleep.” I make myself take slow and deliberate breaths. The papers sent home with me from the hospital explained that anxiety and mood changes are side effects of going into shock. In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

I press the code to unlock the door to my apartment stairs and pull it open. “Thank you, Suzanne. You’re the best!”

Suzanne smiles. Her bubbles are back. “I’ll take care of the little cherubs. You guys get some rest. Have a little alone time while they nap.”

She turns and runs into her house.

“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” I say as we climb the stairs. “She really is an angel in disguise.”

Inside the apartment, we get comfortable on the sofa. “Thank you for going with me today, and thank you for coming back to me,” I tell Jack.

“I came to ask your forgiveness, not ride in on a white horse.”

“Well, I’m glad you were there. And I do forgive you. I shouldn’t have been upset over some tabloid pictures. I should have done the mature thing and talked to you about it.” I think about the magazine layout that include pictures of Jack and his producer.

“Isa, there is nothing between me and Lila.” He looks down. “She is rude and obnoxious and is only looking out for herself.” My heart clenches as he stumbles over his words. “When she caught wind that I might be retiring, she saw that as a hit to her financial future.”

“Continue.” I wave him on.

“She told me my retirement didn’t fit in with her financial planning, and she knew I wanted a future with ya. I think she saw it in her best interest to have ya removed, out of my future.”

“So she staged photos with you knowing they would be published?” I ask, putting two and two together.

“She knows all the paparazzi. I’m sure she probably made some sort of deal with the person who took the ones ya saw.”

“That makes sense.”

I look at him with new understanding. Our situations, although very, very different, have some strong similarities. Both of us were controlled by selfish people, and both of us were able to find the courage to call it quits. Well, I found my courage after the divorce, but it still counts.

“I swear to you, I don’t have anything going on with Lila or with anyone else for that matter,” Jack continues, solemn. “The only person I want something going on with is you.”

“Sounds like you should write a song about that.”

“Maybe someday.” He leans over as if to kiss me, but I put a hand on his chest to hold him at bay.

“Hey, you never told me—how did you happen to come along right when I needed you?”

“Do ya know how many Caribbean bars are located in Kennebunk?”

I rack my brain. “None that I’m aware of.”

“Right. I tried to get Sarah to tell me where ya were, but she wouldn’t budge, so I started hanging around the bar more often, hopin’ I could change her mind. I just so happened to catch a conversation one day that gave me a clue.

“Some sleazeball had bellied up to the bar and demanded that Sarah make him something that wasn’t on the menu. Something unique .” Jack rolls his eyes. “So she pulls out a bottle of rum and a bottle of banana liqueur and splashes them into a glass. ‘There,’ she says, as she shoves it across the bar, ‘enjoy your Mainer’s Banana.’

“Well, that got me thinking. I know someone from Maine. Actually two someones. Maybe Sarah knows the same people. So one night, late, I was futzin’ around on the internet and looked up the Mainer’s Banana. I searched it with Kennebunk, but nothin’ popped. Then I tried South Portland, and you’ll never guess what happened.”

I groan. “You found the Aqua Oyster’s website.”

“Yep.” Jack grins, proud of his research. “And what do I see, but copycats of some of the very same meals I enjoyed in Sarah’s bar. And cocktails that looked just like the ones Sarah had served me.” He turns a sharp eye on me. “And the very ones she’d served you.”

“Guilty as charged.” I hold my hands up as I shrug. “The Aqua Oyster was the only place that would hire me, and I didn’t know any drink recipes, so I tried combining stuff.” I drop my hands into my lap. “The Mainer’s Banana was one of the good ones. After one too many flops, I asked Sarah for help, and she filled me in.”

“That explains it.” Jack nods sagely. “Well, when I got into town, I knew I needed to start my search at the Oyster, but I got there after closing. It was too late to go inside, and if ya were working late, I didn’t want to scare ya in the parking lot, so I parked on the street and waited to see if ya’d come out.”

He reaches over and takes my hand in his. The bandages have come off, and the redness in his knuckles has subsided. He’ll go back to the doctor to get his stitches out in a few days.

“Sweetheart, that first look I had of ya took my breath away.” He raises my hand and strokes his lips over my fingers, one at a time, capping each stroke with a kiss. Now I’m the one with stolen breath. My senses are on high alert, and my panties are becoming wet.

“Ya stood there under that awful yella light that could make Dolly herself look ugly, and to my eye, ya were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. From straight on, I couldn’t see your belly, but then ya turned, and oh!” He kisses the back of my hand. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

With my other hand, I rub my belly self-consciously, remembering Ben’s harsh words when he unbuckled my seat belt. “I’ve gained some weight with this pregnancy.”

“Honey, you’ll always be beautiful to me.” Jack turns my hand over and kisses the inside of my wrist, flicking out his tongue to trace the tender flesh. He blows softly on the wet spot, and I shiver, arousal flooding my panties now.

“I couldn’t pull myself away, even after ya left. The guy you’d come out with left in a pickup truck, and then the last car in the parking lot drove off. The driver was all over the place, so I followed to see if he’d need help. And voilà! He led me right to ya.”

Jack surprises me by kneeling in front of me and taking both hands in his. “I hate to think what would have happened if your ex had succeeded in hurting ya. I don’t ever want us to be apart again. Come back to St. John with me—you and the boys. Come home.”

I lean forward and throw my arms around his neck. “Of course, Jack. Of course I’ll come home!”