Chapter 8
Rowan
I’m ready. This is going to be hard, but Jason is strong and he’ll get through it. He’ll be angry. Angrier maybe than he was last night. But he’ll be okay.
“Hey, Lenard… Oh, sorry. I thought you were—”
His face goes flat. He swallows, takes a slow breath.
Then, “There’s no way to get a hold of him before Monday?”
The answer is there in the eyes that meet mine. No.
Jason starts asking if anyone else can help him.
I step off the porch, mouthing that I’m going to take a walk.
He gives me a tight nod as he begins leaving a message.
So this isn’t getting resolved this morning, and unless this guy happens to check in… Jason’s going to be here through the weekend.
Oh.
My.
God.
We need that locksmith STAT!
Also, we both probably need a minute to regroup. But more than that, I need to make a call of my own.
Pulling up the favorite of all my favorite contacts, I wait as the staticky, intermittent ringing cuts in and out. I check the screen to make sure I’m still connected with my single wavering bar. But then—
“Baby girl!” comes the voice I need to hear more than any other.
I take a breath and smile in relief as Jill Moyo squeals through the miles.
“I knew I was going to hear from you today! How’s the island?
Did you check the ‘Love Letter’ mailbox?
” She gasps. “Tell me there was a letter tucked in the very back. Oooh pleeeeassse! Some ancient love letter left generations ago by the surviving partner of a love so powerful it defied even death… aggghhgh! What did it say?!”
Jill and I met three years ago when I moved to Portland with Ron.
She worked at the same hospital we did and lived less than two blocks from our apartment.
And while Ron worked as an ER doctor with constantly shifting hours, Jill and I had non-clinical positions with matching schedules and matching commutes.
For most of my life, friendships have been hard for me to make and harder for me to keep… Jill stuck. And I love her for it.
“You know I checked it first thing.” That mailbox, on an island that doesn’t receive mail, has been my obsession since Ed first told me about the romantic gesture from his grandfather to his grandmother.
“Sadly, there weren’t any long-lost love notes stuck inside.
But it was beautiful. I promise to take a picture for you.
But, Jill, I’m not sure how long this connection is going to last and—”
“Oh, honey. You don’t sound so good. Tell Mama what happened. Is it that asshat Ron again? What did he do now? What more could he possibly do? I hate him. The bastard.”
“Jill,” I choke out on a too-emotional laugh because:
A) She is ridiculous
B) She’s not my or anyone else’s “Mama”
And C) Ron isn’t a bastard… though it might be easier if he was.
“Right, right,” she mutters before sucking and expelling a deep breath that I’m betting is accompanied by some kind of neck-rolling, shoulder-shaking, full-body-shimmy… all under the guise of a cleanse to prepare for some active listening. “I’m ready.”
I cast a glance behind me at Jason. His head is down, and the way he’s rubbing his neck conveys pure frustration.
“I don’t think you are. Not for this.”
“Oh my God. You’re pregnant!” The squealing resumes. “I knew it!”
What?! “I’m not pregnant.”
“You’re sure? Because Ro, I am digging the idea of us raising little Edith Marie together.” Jill is the enthusiastic type. “She could call me ‘Mama’ and you can be ‘Mommy.’ Oooooh! We would be so freaking cute at the baby classes. I’d be the fucking best Lamaze partner. You know I would be.”
She takes a breath, and that’s my cue to reply. “You would absolutely be the best Lamaze partner, life partner, and co-mother to any baby I unexpectedly found myself carrying. But alas, I’m still not pregnant.”
“Boo.” She’s going to sulk about this. No question.
“I know. But honestly, it’s for the best because this kind of stress would not be good for the baby.”
“Our baby,” she corrects with a little too much conviction.
“Right. Exactly.”
“What’s going on, girl?”
“Well… I got to the cabin yesterday, and at first everything was fine. I was a little emotional.”
“Of course. First time seeing the place and all.”
“So I took your advice.”
“With the wine and snacks, dance-off pants-off style? Yes!”
“Yes. Only less than an hour later, Jason showed up!”
“What?” That exuberant, sing-songy, free-association train of thought thing is gone, and my best friend is now laser focused. “Hot-and-Sour Jason? The hockey player with the ‘lights out’ right hook? Ed’s son… that Jason? What the hell is he doing there? Why now?”
“He showed up with half his team. And Jill, he thinks the cabin is his.”
There’s nothing over-the-top about her gasp. It’s the only response. “Are you okay? That had to be awful to tell him.”
“It was not great.”
“But how did he not know? I mean, I guess that doesn’t really matter so much as how did he take it?”
“He just stared at me for a minute, like there was some ‘Does not compute’ announcement playing through his brain. And then—”
God, he’d looked so… betrayed.
Only not by the man who made the choice to leave the property to his wife over his son… He looked like he’d been betrayed by me.
“And then he told you you’d be hearing from his legal team and left, taking all the hotness with him. Sad.” Jill clucks her tongue. “What’d your mom say about it?”
“So, two things. First, I haven’t told her yet.”
“Wait, what? Marsha doesn’t know that Public Enemy Numero Uno dared to set foot on her turf? Girl, it’s been nice knowing you. I’ll tell the authorities to look for a shallow grave.”
I only wish my bestie was blowing this out of proportion. But sadly? Ugh.
“I’m going to tell her!” Obviously, I’ll tell her.
If I didn’t and she somehow found out he’d been here?
Rational or not, she would consider it the most grievous of betrayals.
And when my mother feels betrayed… God help everyone.
“It’s just… why upset her more than necessary now, right?
Maybe it’s better if I wait until Jason hears from his lawyer.
Then I can give her a heads-up on what kind of pushback to expect… If any, you know?”
“Why? It’ll just torque her off when she finds out that you waited. And what’s it going to matter whether she knows now or later if he’s not even—” The silence is actually worse than if she’d gasped. “Rowan.”
I stare down at the path beneath my feet. “That’s the second thing. He’s not leaving without an answer. And I’m like ninety percent sure the lawyer took a long weekend.”
She coughs. “Monday? You’re okay with that?”
“I wasn’t.” Not after the way last night unraveled and the mantrum that resulted in us having to share a bed. “But today, I just can’t stop thinking about how much he’s lost already. And to find out about the cabin like this?”
I hate it for him.
I hate knowing how much Ed would hate what’s happening right now, because there is no way this is what he wanted to happen. He must have thought he’d have more time. Something.
But as it stands? “Ed would have wanted his son to be able to say goodbye. To take what he wanted and maybe help me decide what happens to the rest.”
“And for him to have that chance, you can’t let Marsha know he’s there.”
“Nope.” I wasn’t exaggerating last night. “She’d have the local sheriff over here to escort him off the property. Heck, she’d probably get the press involved to make sure he felt the threat to his career and stayed away.”
She wouldn’t be able to see what he was losing. She wouldn’t care.
All she’d see is an adversary, and she’d come at him with everything she had.
“Damn, your mom is…”
Jill trails off, probably trying to talk herself out of saying something hurtful about my only living family member. But she doesn’t have to.
“Yep. I know.” I know who my mother is and how vindictive she can be. How dangerous.
What I don’t know is why my mother is built the way she is. To her, people fall into one of three categories: pawns, rivals, and prizes.
Ed was a prize. And from the minute he put his ring on her finger, she started to see his son as a rival with the potential to make it come off.
I round the curve, and more of the island’s shoreline comes into view. It’s bigger than it looked from the boat, stretching back to a bluff with a rocky beach beneath. It’s beautiful and rugged, like the man who’s losing it.
“Rowan, what you’re doing for this guy is a big deal. It would have meant a lot to Ed. I hope his son appreciates it.”
Until he’s talked to his people and understands what’s actually happening here, I don’t think he really can. But so long as we can respectfully coexist in the interim, I don’t need him to.
We talk as I follow the looping path deeper through the woods, stopping here and there to examine a rotted log or pretty stone. To look out over the water and watch the waves.
I wanted to give Jason a few minutes to himself, but we need to talk. So when Jill finishes telling me about the guy she won’t be going on a second date with, but how his brother is pretty cute… I have to cut her off.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I want to hear, but I’m almost back at the cabin.”
“Eesh, you’ve got a few things to sort out, huh.”
“Like what this weekend is going to look like if we’re both here.
” He really did seem reasonable this morning.
Not like the reactive guy losing his shit last night, but more like the kinder sixteen-year-old version he was that night we met…
when he was the guy who wouldn’t leave me alone at the baseball park when my mom hadn’t come to pick me up.
And his apology was sincere. But now that he’s not getting what he wanted… ugh, I really hope that Ed’s assessment of his son and the man he is now turns out to be more accurate than my mother’s.
Jill hums. “Set up some ground rules. Maybe put a masking tape divider through the common areas?”
Peering down at my shoes in the overgrown path, I debate whether to come clean about the situation with Ed’s bedroom door lock and the whole one-bed thing.
But that fast, she decides for me…
“SOOoooo, you and the forbidden fruit of your stepdad’s loins are going to be staying in that cabin together? Alone? Just you and Hot-and-Sour?”
Definitely, a no on the reveal. Also, damn the margaritas responsible for birthing that description. “Yes. But you’ve got to stop calling him that.”
“You’re hilarious, but no. Never.” At least she’s honest. “And… I recognize that you’re all stressy-pants right now. But objectively… Has the hotness faded with age?”
A loud thwack has me spinning around, my eyes immediately landing on Jason where he’s standing in a small clearing by the rear of the house… swinging an ax to split wood.
“Whoa, Rowan. What was that? Are you okay?”
“I-I’m fine.”
“Because it sounded like you were choking or something.”
“He’s umm… he’s still pretty hot.” Relentlessly, unfathomably hot… and now with a lumberjack vibe.
“You know what that means, right?” She’s way too excited.
“Do I want to?”
“There’s still a chance for little Edith Marie!”