Chapter 20
Jo’s voice shakes as she explains the situation. I already knew from Penny, and the conversation I overheard my first day at her house, that her grandmother lives in a memory care facility due to dementia.
Gently taking the keys from her trembling fingers, I lock up the house and guide her to the driveway, placing a hand to the small of her back. At her car, I open the passenger door and motion for her to get in. Jo’s eyes narrow and she looks from the seat to me.
“I’m driving, Josie. You’re pretty worked up. It’s not safe for you to drive like this.” My head dips, motioning once more for her to get in, and without protest, she does.
Rounding the car, I adjust the driver’s seat and start the engine.
“Where to?”
“She’s at Creekwood Hospital. It’s about thirty minutes from here.”
I type the information into my GPS, and clip my phone into the holder on her dash.
“Shit. I’m out of gas,” Josie curses. My eyes go to her dash where the low fuel light glows orange.
Glancing over at her, I see that her eyes are brimming with unshed tears. “Jo,” I begin calmly. “Listen to me. I’ve got you. We’ll get gas and head there. Your grandmother is in good hands, okay?”
Jo nods, eyes fixed on something in the distance. Heading to the closest gas station, I fill it up and we’re quickly back on the road, following the directions the GPS indicates.
Thinking Jo might want some music to occupy her mind, I grab my phone at the first light, swiping to my favorite playlist. It’s an eclectic mix of classic rock, country, Americana, and folk.
A couple of Mumford and Sons songs play, and I hum along, lightly tapping my steering wheel.
Patty Griffin comes on next, and we fall silent, listening to “Heavenly Day.”
Beside me, Jo sniffles, and I glance over to see her bat the wetness from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Ignore me,” she says. “I used to never cry. “‘Tough as nails, that one,’ my grandfather would say. Seems like lately I’m nothing but a leaky faucet.”
Taking her hand in mine, I thread our fingers together, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss her knuckles.
“I don’t mind if you leak.” Jo huffs a small laugh at my response. “I think you’re human with human emotions. I’m serious, Jo. Whatever it is you’re feeling right now, I can handle it.”
Eyes back on the road, I drive, not letting go of Jo’s warm hand, wondering how I’ve gone my whole life without this woman.
“Do you wanna talk about your grandmother?” I ask, piercing our quiet bubble.
“This is one of the very few times where I don’t wanna talk at all. Distract me. Tell me more about yourself.” Jo’s words are hollow, and I glance over at her. She’s looking straight ahead, a distant look in her eyes.
“What do you wanna know?”
Jo lifts one shoulder, letting it fall. “I know we’ve talked about this some, but what’s life been like since that fateful night?”
Taking a few seconds to gather my thoughts, I tell her, “Busy. When I told you I was committed to Austin’s career, I meant it.
He took off, and I was occupied keeping all the plates spinning for him.
You probably know this, but handling his career was no walk in the park.
” I release a sigh. “But failing him wasn’t an option.
I don’t like failing at anything. So I did what I had to do and busted my ass for him. ”
I feel, rather than see, Jo’s eyes on me.
“Clark,” she deadpans.
My lips quirk at her nickname for me.
“I bet you’ve been that way your whole life,” Jo says.
“Been what way?”
“A fixer. Committing to what you care about, and doing everything in your power to make a difference.”
I take in a breath and let it out slowly. “I assume you know some of Austin’s story?”
Jo nods, so I continue. “My mom and dad had enough going on with Cassie and Austin moving in with us, helping them heal from what they’d been through.
The three of us were tight as kids. Closer than most cousins.
Watching their struggles, seeing the effect it had on them…
well, it did something to me.” I pause to gather my thoughts.
“Mom was always crying. I can’t tell you how many nights I’d overhear Dad comforting her after an especially hard day with Austin, and I hated how powerless that made me feel.
I know now that Austin was broken in ways I didn’t understand back then.
I was twelve when they moved in, and what I did understand was that I was old enough to carry my weight around the house.
I’d always been a responsible kid, but when they moved in, it’s like I kicked it into high gear.
I remember the exact day when I made a conscious decision to work harder, be better, fix what I could.
And that’s what I did. I threw myself into chores, school, everything. ”
I hazard a glance at Jo, contemplating if I want to peel back the layers of things I never talk about. Her eyes are filled with so much empathy, so much compassion, it makes me want to tell her everything.
“I’d lie awake at night, going over my day like a checklist—almost compulsively, asking myself if I did enough.
And the answer was usually no. In college it all got to be too much.
I found myself taking on things that I should have left to someone else, jumping in feet first anytime I thought someone needed me.
I started seeing an on campus therapist and it helped. ”
“Well, thank god you got help. So many people don’t. You might have been responsible, but it was never your job to do all that.”
Forcing a shrug, my eyes flick to hers and back to the road.
“I did what I had to do and it paid off. Mom was able to focus on Austin and Cassie. Their lives improved, and eventually Austin’s career took off.
It all worked out.” It’s a neat and tidy summary for a time that was anything but.
Those years were heavy and had a lasting impact on my life.
Then, throughout Austin’s career, I’ve been the problem solver—it’s hard to know when to stop.
Jo watches me wearing a knowing look, the one that makes me think she hears the words I don’t say aloud. Hell, she works with struggling teens regularly, she probably can.
Something else hits me. “You know you played a part in Austin’s life, right?”
“I don’t know about all that. I’ve tried to be a good friend to him and support him and Penny, but that’s nothing special.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I might never have heard of Singing River Sound if you hadn't mentioned it the night we met. So in a roundabout way, it’s because of you that he’s here. You put the plan in motion without even realizing it.”
“That feels like a stretch, but tonight I need that win. I’ll take it.” Jo smiles over at me, and I squeeze her hand.
We fall silent for a long while, the music filling the space between us.
“Did you ever take time for yourself?” Jo’s voice breaks through the quiet. “Dating? Friends? I know you played basketball, so there’s at least that.”
I look over at her, trying for a grin to lighten the mood. “You fishing for details on my dating life.”
Jo smirks. “Sometimes you’ve got this resting stressed face.
” She scrunches her features into an exaggerated grimace, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Just making sure you lived a little. Wondering if there are any other mini-Tylers out there walking around.” She mimes two little legs with her fingers, walking them across the console.
My mind goes to my past relationships, always ending for one reason or another.
When my high school girlfriend moved back to Texas after college, we gave it a go again.
We dated a few years, ending in a proposal where she said no.
She was right to do so. I was always traveling with Austin, and couldn’t give her the attention she deserved.
She told me my heart wasn’t in it, and I should figure out where my heart belonged.
I tried out a few more relationships over the years, but each time, it never felt right.
As crazy as this sounds, if the woman had brown hair, I’d envision cornsilk locks with streaks of purple.
Brown eyes would only make me think of blue rimmed in silver.
I knew I was being unrealistic, holding every woman to a standard set by one night.
But the more time I spend with Jo now, the clearer it is.
The problem wasn’t them. The problem was they weren’t her.
For a man with very little faith beyond what I can control, the fates sure stepped in here.
“I dated enough,” I tell her, keeping it vague. Then, because honesty is already spilling out of me tonight, I add, “I was even almost engaged once.”
Jo’s eyebrows lift. “I assume it didn’t work out?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” I admit.
“Even with Austin’s career pulling me in every direction, I wanted a family.
” My jaw tightens as I search for my next words.
“But the truth is, she wasn’t right for me.
She wasn’t even close.” My eyes flicker to Jo’s, a thoughtful crease forming between her brow, like she’s reading between the lines of what I’m saying.
“And for the record,” I add, my voice going soft, “Abby is my only mini-me.”
She smiles, eyes lingering on the side of my face.
With my gaze fixed back on the road, I ask, “Jo, sweetheart…do you shoulder all this alone?”
Jo releases a long sigh. “Completely alone. My mom drifts in and out of my life on a whim. She has effective personality disorder and refuses medication or any kind of help. Plus, she has terrible taste in men, and is never without a man in her life. That’s one of the many reasons Mawmaw raised my brother and me. ”
“And your dad?” I ask gently. “Where is he?”
Jo gives a shrug, rolling her lips in. “A classic example of my mom’s terrible taste in men.
He was gone before I was born. Found out Mom was pregnant and left.
My brother’s dad left us, too. My mom had no money, no place to stay other than her station wagon.
We’d been setting up camp in the back of it every night to sleep, rationing what little food we had.
That’s what Abby meant, by the way. When she said I have food trauma.
” Then Jo’s face brightens. “But Mawmaw found us not long into our station wagon camp outs. I was six, and Chris was two. We were basically feral at that point, raising ourselves. She moved my brother and me in, and tried to get help for my mom.”
This woman. She’s been through so much, yet despite her claims to be a leaky faucet, I’m with her granddad.
From where I’m sitting, she’s still tough as nails.
I make a silent vow to her: whatever I can take off her plate, I will.
She doesn’t have time in her days for anything extra, but I’ve got all the time in the world for Jo, Abby, and Jay.
“And your brother?” I ask, though I already suspect the answer.
Jo laughs, a sardonic, hollow sound. “Christopher means well. I truly believe that. I love him to death, but my word. If man-childing was an Olympic sport, his neck would strain under the weight of all those gold medals.”
I laugh at her description, and she goes on. “Honestly, I don’t even know where he is right now. Last I heard, he was living in Indiana, couch-surfing, hopping from one job to the next, no stability whatsoever.”
I push my tongue into my cheek, staring out at the road ahead.
Her life has been filled with abandonment—her father, her mother, brother and then her husband.
No wonder she insists she doesn’t need anyone.
When that many people leave, including her piece of shit ex-husband, it makes sense that she’d learn to lean only on herself.
The GPS alerts that we’ve arrived at our destination, right as the hospital comes into view.
I park in the first spot I see, and Jo is already unbuckled and hopping out to dart across the parking lot before I’ve even turned off the ignition.
Entering through the sliding double doors, I spot Jo, tapping her nails impatiently at the information desk, glancing around for someone who might work here.
“Wait here, I’ll find someone,” I say and head down a hallway until I find a security guard. He speaks into his walkie-talkie, and informs me someone will help us shortly.
A volunteer is already helping Jo when I step up next to her. The worker tells us the floor and room number, pointing to the elevators at the end of the hall.
“Is there a waiting area in that wing?” I ask.
The volunteer tells me where to find it, and Jo and I walk to the elevators, silently waiting for the doors to slide open. We step on and Jo punches the button for the third floor. Before we part ways, I pull her in for a quick hug.
“I’ll be in the waiting area if you need anything. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jo nods and heads down the hallway toward her grandmother’s room while I head to the waiting area, sliding out my phone to let Penny know what’s going on so she can fill Lisa in. I don’t know how long Jo and I will be here, but the least I can do is make sure Abby and Jay are taken care of.
There’s a bookcase full of books on one wall, with the words Lending Library written in Sharpie on a piece of cardstock taped above the shelf.
Feeling restless, I stand to peruse the shelves.
My eyes land on a worn copy of A Farewell to Arms. It’s not the edition I have, the very one I tore from to write a note to Jo, but I grab it from the shelf and sit to immerse myself in the familiarity of the story.