Chapter 8 – Jennie
I can’t stop shaking, and I’m cold all over, all the way to my core. I think I’m in shock. I had thought—had hoped anyway—I’d never see David again.
Chris sits me back down on my office chair and begins to pace. Micah stands off to the side, leaning against a filing cabinet, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Who initiated the divorce?” Chris asks.
“I did.”
“You said he hurt you,” he says gently.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. If this was something I wanted you to know, I would have told you long before now.”
“I understand that, sweetheart, but if I’m going to help you, I need to know everything. How did he hurt you? Was it physical? Emotional?”
“Both. And more.”
Chris’s eyes close hard and his breathing deepens. “Jennie, I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
He says we like this is about both of us. We like we’re together. The waterworks start again. I haven’t cried this much in a long time. My eyes flood with tears, and they quickly spill over onto my cheeks.
Chris muffles a curse as he locates the box of tissues on my desk. He pulls out several and hands them to me.
I dab my cheeks. “I really need to go home for a while. Just to get my head on straight.” I need to process. David’s back in town, and my restraining order expired a long time ago.
“All right,” Chris says with a reluctant sigh. Apparently, he’s willing to put the interrogation on hold for the time being. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather walk. The exercise will help me clear my head.”
“Fine. Then I’ll walk you home.” And before I can say a word, he says, “I’m not letting you take a step outside of this diner by yourself. In fact, you shouldn’t go anywhere alone until this is under control.”
“You’d better listen to him, Jens,” Micah says. “I don’t think the sheriff is going to take no for an answer. And I’m with him on this, so it’s two against one. We win, you lose.”
I laugh. When we were kids, we solved disagreements using majority rules. I guess some things haven’t changed.
“Fine.” I open my side desk drawer and grab my purse. “Just let me tell the staff I’m leaving.”
Chris waits for me while I tell my employees goodbye for the day. When I’m ready, he walks with me to the back exit and out into the rear parking lot. As I notice him scanning the parking lot, I realize he’s looking for David.
We cross the parking lot to the sidewalk that leads back into the residential part of town.
He knows the way to my house like the back of his hand.
We walked this route literally hundreds of times when we were in school.
Micah, Chris, and I often walked back to my place to watch TV after school or play Tomb Raider or Grand Theft Auto on my PlayStation.
We played a lot of video games in those days.
That’s what I got for having two guys as my best friends.
Chris is pretty quiet as he slows his pace to match mine. When we reach my house, we head for the side door. I pull out my key and unlock the doorknob and both deadbolts. The upper deadbolt is a bit of a stretch for me.
Because Granny has an unfortunate tendency to wander off, we keep the doors locked at all times so there’s no risk of her getting out. In the five years since her dementia worsened, she’s gotten out only twice—but that was too enough for me.
The first time she got out, I found her talking to one of our neighbors, Mrs. Cochran, in her front yard.
The second time was a bit scarier. She made it all the way to the diner. Now I don’t take any chances.
The house is quiet when we step inside. Mrs. Patterson is seated at the kitchen table crocheting a bright yellow trim on a hand towel.
“Hi, Mrs. P,” I say.
She glances up at me. “You’re home early.”
“I thought I’d take the rest of the day off.”
Mrs. Patterson eyes Chris with more than a little curiosity. I guess she’s surprised to find him here in my house. “Is there a problem, Sheriff?”
“No, ma’am. I just thought I’d walk Jennie home.”
Mrs. Patterson rises from the table, tucks her crochet project into a quilted bag, and collects her purse. “I guess I’ll be going now. Rosie’s asleep on the sofa in the living room. I’ll see you next Saturday, Jennie.”
After she’s gone, I lock the doorknob and turn both deadbolts. “Thanks for walking me home,” I tell Chris.
There’s a loud thud in the living room, and we both scurry down the hall to see what’s up. Naturally, my first thought is Granny rolled off the sofa. It’s happened before, but no matter what, that’s one of her favorite places to nap during the day. She thinks beds are only for nighttime sleeping.
Turns out it was just Pumpkin, who’s walking across the desk. He likely jumped down from the top of the bookcase. Granny is still sound asleep on the sofa, curled up with her fleece blanket.
“It was just the cat,” I say, relieved. One of my biggest fears is that she’ll fall and break her hip.
Chris nods back toward the way we came, silently asking me to follow him.
When I walk into the kitchen, he gestures to one of the chairs at the table. “Please sit.”
He’s in cop mode, sounding like he’s ready to interrogate me again.
But to my surprise, he doesn’t ask me a single question.
Instead, he picks up the stainless steel kettle off the stove, fills it with water, and sets it on the stove to heat.
“Still drink peppermint tea?” He opens the pantry door and starts searching.
“I can’t believe you remember that.” It’s always been my go-to stress relief. “It’s on the second shelf down from the top, right-hand side.”
He finds the box of tea bags, grabs a mug, and sets it on the counter near the stove. “I remember everything about you,” he says quietly as he places a tea bag in the cup.
Chris grabs the kettle off the stove just as it’s about to begin screeching, pours hot water into the mug, and brings it to the table. While I’m dunking my tea bag, as if that will make it steep quicker, he goes to the fridge for the milk. He brings that, plus a spoon, to the table.
It seems he does remember everything.
As he sits and watches me take my first sip, I realize I love him every bit as much today as I ever did. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be all right. I appreciate you walking me home, though. Thank you.”
I set down my cup and stir my tea unnecessarily. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to look at him. He wants answers I don’t want to give him.
I think it’s because of the shame. I never told him about David. I never told Micah. My two best friends know practically nothing about the most traumatic period of my life. Some friend I am.
“You weren’t dating anyone the summer after we graduated from high school.” Chris chuckles bitterly. “I think I would have noticed.”
He’s right, because we spent nearly every free moment we had together that summer, the three of us, until Chris and Micah left.
We graduated from high school in early June. Chris and Micah both left town in August. After a whirlwind courtship, I married David at the county courthouse in November.
The silence grows heavy as he waits for me to explain.
“I didn’t start dating David until after you and Micah left town. We got married on November 14th.”
Chris freezes. I’m not even sure if he’s breathing. Finally, with a gust of breath, he asks, “You dated him for only three months before you married him?”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” I understand why I said yes.
I was lonely, and my two best friends had just left me.
And then David shows up, day after day at the diner, love bombing me until I couldn’t see straight.
I was swept off my feet by a handsome, charismatic guy whose parents owned half of the property surrounding Bryce.
He wined and dined me, and he showered me with gifts and compliments.
He gave me everything I thought I needed.
Chris drops his head into his hand. “How could I have been so blind?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Chris.” My voice is shaking. I can handle my own insecurities and recriminations, but not his. He’s never done anything wrong.
He lifts his face so he can look me in the eye. “I need you to tell me what he did to you.”
I shake my head. “It’s old history. I don’t want to rehash it.”
“You may not have a choice, Jennie. He’s back in town. Who knows for how long or what he intends to do.”
“Hopefully, he’ll get tired of pestering me and leave me alone.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll get another restraining order.”
“Another one?” Chris shoots to his feet and starts pacing. “You had to get a fucking restraining order against him?”
I wince. “Yes.”
He carefully pushes his chair up to the table. We’re both trying to be quiet so we don’t wake Granny. Even after all this time, he remembers the little things like that.
“Will you be okay here alone?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.
“Of course.”
“I need to go to the station. I want to review the police records pertaining to your ex-husband.” That last word has a bite to it. “I’ll stop by later to make sure you’re okay.”
“Chris, please, don’t go digging into the past. It was nearly ten years ago. It’s water under the bridge.”
“Is it really? I haven’t seen Dave Braggart step one foot into Bryce since I’ve been back here—that’s six years. So, why’s he here now? And why did he show up in your diner?”
I don’t have an answer to that, so I don’t even try to guess. “Please, Chris, leave it alone.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Jennie. I can’t.”
And then he surprises the daylights out of me by leaning in and kissing my cheek. It’s a chaste kiss, similar to the dozens of kisses he’s given me over the years. Brotherly kisses. Friendly kisses. But this time, my cheek feels warm where his lips touched my skin.
As he lets himself out the side door, he says, “Be sure to lock up after me.”
I get up to lock the door and find myself touching my face. I can still feel his lips on my cheek.