CHAPTER 28
Jannie
“Go away,” Jannie muttered, giving Rolf the hand signal to stop barking.
This was the third time someone rang the doorbell this Saturday, and to say she was irritated would be an understatement. No, she didn’t want to buy a set of steak knives, and no, her queen palms in the back did not need pruning.
At least her period had finally ended today, and she no longer had to deal with the cramping and all that went with it.
She glanced at the teacup cabinet, where she had positioned the hideous stuffed German Shepherd so she could see it from anywhere in the huge family room.
He looked ridiculous among the delicate floral chintz Shelley cups and saucers, and that made her smile.
Hardly anything made her smile lately. Her days were filled with endless patients, endless paperwork, and not much else. The gym helped, and so did Rolf, but every day that passed made her feel as if she were merely existing.
She reached the front door and peered out through the lights.
No one.
She yanked open the door in time to hear giggles and running feet.
Ding-dong ditch again.
Jannie snickered, remembering the times she used to do that with her brothers. Life was so simple back then, filled with family, fun, and laughter. She would give anything to go back in time for just a day, even if her brothers would annoy her.
She pushed the door closed and locked it, feeling as if she were locking herself inside a perfect prison.
“No one there,” she said to Rolf, who gave her a tail swish and a doggie smile. She reached to caress a velvety, pointy ear. “Just you and me.”
The dog lowered his head, pushing it affectionately into her legs.
“I know,” she said. “I’m not much fun these days.”
Suddenly, her eyes burned, and she furiously blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She refused to cry. Crying was for people who couldn’t control themselves, and she was determined to hold it together.
Jannie cast a glance around.
A good house cleaning. That’s what she needed to do.
Getting everything spotless always gave her a boost. After deploying all three Roombas to their designated sections of the house, she donned rubber gloves and proceeded to scrub, wipe, and polish for a good half-hour until she ran out of her favorite spray cleaner.
“No problem,” she told Rolf. “I’ve got two more in the garage. Let’s go.” She headed down the hallway, Rolf trotting close by her side.
She passed her parked Porsche, smiling at the car. Every time she saw it, she still got a little thrill. Maybe she’d go for a drive later and splurge on some Twistee Treat since she hadn’t eaten ice cream in a while.
But first, cleaning.
Opening the largest metal cabinet, she scanned the rows of sprays, boxes, bottles, and gallon jugs, ranging from floor degreaser to window cleaner.
And then, her gaze landed on her stash of the little German laundry sheet boxes, arranged in four neat stacks in the front: color catcher, sheets for blacks, blues, and whites.
She remembered giving one to Nick, and how hot he had looked in his blinding white uniform shirts. Seeing him in them on FaceTime was not the same, and these days, he always seemed stressed.
She wondered what he did during his downtime. Unable to stop herself, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed, “Are there sex clubs in Asia?” in the search bar.
Yes, Asia has a range of sex clubs, particularly in cities like Bangkok, Pattaya, and Manila, where adult entertainment is a big part of the nightlife scene. These spots often feature go-go bars, nightclubs, and lounges that cater to different sexual preferences.
Another time, she would have thought of a clever pun about Bangkok, but right now, it made her stomach turn. Why the hell am I doing this to myself?
Forcing her mind away from the thought of him in some darkened Asian sex lounge with exotic women putting their hands and mouths all over him, Jannie grabbed the spray can she wanted and slammed the cabinet door, much harder than necessary.
Rolf gave her the side-eye and skittered back, nails clicking on the glossy epoxy floor.
“Sorry.” She patted his side and massaged the back of his furry neck. “Paper towels. I need the red ones for the windows.”
She bent to pull open the lower cabinet.
And then she spotted it: the box of baby things she had collected during those five months when she’d thought …
She pulled her trembling lower lip between her teeth.
She’d forgotten that she’d shoved that box in there when she returned from the hospital, unable to bring herself to donate or, worse, throw it away.
She didn’t open it; she knew exactly what was inside and didn’t want to see the tiny pink and blue outfits she had chosen with so much love and hope.
So many months had passed, and still, it felt so raw. During her time in Vegas, with Nick there to hold her when she got sad, it had gotten better. She thought she’d actually healed, but being here all alone in this house stirred up that trauma again, and sometimes it hit her without warning.
She glanced at her watch. Three o’clock.
It was 3:00 a.m. in Singapore. Nick had looked so tired the last time they talked; she didn’t want to wake him.
She closed her eyes, recalling the feel of his strong arms around her, the brush of his lips on her forehead whenever he noticed her looking a certain way.
“You’re thinking about them again?”
She nodded.
“Come here.”
She went straight into his arms, and he enveloped her, all solid strength and comfort. She buried her face in his throat, inhaling his cologne, filling her senses with his scent, gradually relaxing as he stroked her hair.
“You know what I did that helped me?”
“What?”
“I sat down and wrote Mom a letter. Put everything on there. Then I sealed it in a bottle and flew it to California.”
“A message in a bottle?”
“I know it sounds corny, but …”
She kissed his jaw. “It doesn’t. I might have to try that.”
“I took it to San Diego and tossed it into the Pacific. That helped me.”
There was no ocean near Las Vegas, and she hadn’t thought releasing a message in a bottle in Lake Tahoe would be quite the same. But there was an ocean near Orlando, and it was only sixty miles away.
Carefully placing the box back where she’d found it, Jannie snapped her fingers at Rolf and headed to her office.
·
Jannie gripped the railing tightly, the sea breeze whipping her hair around and misting her face as the shoreline of Cocoa Beach disappeared in the distance.
A nice elderly couple had agreed to take her on their Tiara for a modest fee, and fifteen minutes out, the water was clear and deep and blue.
The boat gradually came to a stop, bobbing on the choppy waters. Elanor, the wife, came to stand beside Jannie, gently gripping her elbow.
“Is here all right, dear?” she asked.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
The woman nodded, a faraway look in her kind brown eyes.
“I lost one, too. A little girl. Thirty-nine years ago.” She gazed out at the horizon, where the setting sun painted the sky in shades of gold and amber.
“You never do forget. The hardest part is that you’ll always wonder who they would have been.
But it does get easier, eventually.” A sad smile curved her lips.
“And what you’re doing here is a very good thing. I hope it brings you comfort.”
“Me too.”
The woman patted Jannie’s arm. “Well … I’ll leave you to it.”
She disappeared below deck, and Jannie took the letter out of her backpack to read it one last time.
Hello, up there. This is your mother.
It took me a while to call myself that, maybe because part of me felt undeserving and guilty for not being able to carry you to term and bring you into this world.
For a few miraculous months, you were mine and always there—my sweet secret, my son and daughter, my first children.
To say I was excited about the two of you would be an understatement.
We were going to be a family, just the three of us.
No matter what life threw our way, we would face it and figure it out together.
But your destiny was different. You couldn’t stay, and I was left with empty arms, broken dreams, and some clothes I bought during those incredible months of carrying you in my body.
Losing you was the most painful experience of my life.
I remember lying in the hospital, bleeding, crying, and feeling like my world had ended.
I remember looking to the sky, telling you that I was sorry—sorry that my body failed you, sorry that I couldn’t do anything to stop you from leaving.
You both went, holding hands, hopefully to a better place.
I can’t express how much I loved you. I never got the chance to meet you or hold you in my arms, but I will forever hold you in my heart.
You were my joyful surprise, the only light in my life back then, and your brilliance will shine forever.
I love you, my sweet babies.
Your mother,
Jannie
Two tears fell on the paper, and Jannie swiped at her cheeks and licked her lips, tasting salt.
Squaring her shoulders, she tightly rolled up the letter and grabbed the empty Dr Pepper bottle from her backpack. When she had searched for a bottle to use, this one seemed like the perfect choice—a little piece of her, one of her favorite things.
And it reminded her of Nick, how he had hauled a few cases of it all the way to Vegas, just to make her happy.
She plugged the bottle with a cork, twisting to push it all the way in. She wished Nick were here with her. This would be so much easier.
She glanced at her watch—7:30 a.m. in Singapore. OK to call, she decided.
Hesitating for only a moment, she pulled the phone out of her backpack.
It rang just once before he accepted the FaceTime call. “Good morning, beautiful girl.”
Her throat closed. He looked so handsome, albeit more tired than the last time she had spoken to him. There were now shadows under his eyes, and she swore he had lost weight, too.
She flipped the phone screen to show him where she was.
“Doesn’t look like your pool,” he observed.
She turned the phone around again. “Yeah, it’s a little bigger.”
“Where are you?”
“Cocoa Beach.”
“This late?”
She lifted the bottle to show him.
“Oh.” Nick was silent for a beat. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
He smiled. “Of course you are.”
“Yes. Always.”
“I wish I could be there with you,” he said softly.
Her heart squeezed. “You are.” She did her best to steel herself. “Ready?”
“Are you?”
She gripped the bottle tightly. “I’m ready.”
“OK, let’s do it.”
“God reise, my sweet babies,” Jannie whispered.
“Good journey” in Norwegian felt better than goodbye.
She looked toward the horizon where the sun had started its final descent, then nodded at Nick. “One … two …”
“Three!” Nick said, and Jannie sent the bottle sailing.
It glinted golden in the setting sun over the water before landing, bobbing a few times as if in farewell before it disappeared into the endless waters of the Atlantic.