3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Sharon
So this is Jon , I think to myself, eyeing him as intently as he's eyeing me. While Noah favors his mother, Jon definitely takes after his dad. He's tall and has broad shoulders and a muscular build. He has a strong, square jaw and a full mouth. His eyes are dark gray with gold around the irises. They're framed by long, thick eyelashes, and there's a small scar on the corner of his left eyebrow.
I'm staring, and he knows it.
"Hi," I say, extending my hand to shake his. "You must be Jon." His handshake is warm and firm, but he doesn't smile back.
"Are you okay?" I ask when I notice him turning pale as a ghost.
"Yes," he says, "I'm fine."
He doesn't say more but he doesn't let go of my hand either. We're at an impasse, a standoff, deadlocked.
"Can I have my hand back?" I ask when the awkward silence and prolonged contact make me blush.
"I'm sorry," he says, letting go of my hand. "It's just that, well, I wasn't expecting, I wasn't expecting you to be—"
"Be what?" I ask, wondering where this is going.
"Sharon," he finally says. "I wasn't expecting you to be Sharon."
"That is my name," I say, not understanding what he means.
"My parents and brother always called you Shay. I never knew you were Sharon."
"I'm sorry," I say, realizing he's right. "Have we met before?"
"No," he says, "but I know who you are."
I don't say anything, waiting for him to continue.
"You're Jimmy's fiancée," he says. His gray eyes are locked on mine. "He kept your picture in his locker."
"I see," I say, smiling. "Jimmy loved that picture."
"Jon!" Noah's little voice sounds cranky, and it quickly snaps us out of whatever this is.
"I'm sorry, Buddy," Jon says. "Let me get you out of there."
I step aside and let Jon pull Noah out of the car.
"Oh my," Jon says, "you're getting so big!"
"I wanna be as tall as you," Noah says when Jon puts him down.
"Oh, I think you'll be taller than me, Bud."
"You're already tall for your age," I say.
"Is your luggage in the trunk?" Jon asks.
"Yes," I say, "I only have one suitcase, and the other is Noah's."
"Which one's yours?" he asks, looking into the trunk. "The blue one, or the one with Woody Woodpecker on it?
So he has a sense of humor.
"That one is mine," says Noah, pointing at Woody.
"This must be yours," he says, handing me a small wooden keepsake box with my name engraved on it.
"Yes, that's mine."
His eyes rest on mine for a few beats before Noah tugs at his shirt.
On the outside, the house looks like a charming white colonial from a past era, with a raised wrap-around porch, but the inside is filled with modern furnishings and top-of-the-line appliances.
"Let me give you a tour of the house," Mrs. Linder offers. "All the bedrooms are on the second floor."
At the top of the stairs, there's a den furnished with a large comfortable sofa, a coffee table, a loveseat, and two chairs. We first walk down the hall to the left to look at Noah's room. The colors are yellow, ocean blue, and forest green, and there's a hand-painted, floor-to-ceiling dinosaur-themed mural on one of the walls.
"Noah is going to love this room," I say.
"He's really into dinosaurs right now," Mrs. Linder says, "So we figured, why not? We'll paint the walls a different color or theme once he grows out of it."
Next, we go to the room next door.
"This is your room," says Mrs. Linder. "There's a full bath with a tub and a walk-in closet. I know you like to read, so there's also a small seating area with a comfortable armchair and table."
"This is perfect," I say, taking in my beautiful surroundings—the king-size bed with an antique wrought-iron headboard, the luxurious garden-themed decor, and pretty floral bedding.
"Feel free to change anything you want in here," she says. "We can paint the walls a different color if this doesn't suit you."
"No," I say, looking at the soft, muted color on the walls. "I mean it. This is perfect. Green is my favorite color."
"Great," she says. “I'm glad you like it. Oh, and before I forget, Noah's playroom is just down the hall to the right. We set it up for play on one side and learning on the other. Jon went shopping and got toys, puzzles, and books. There's a table, a file cabinet filled with supplies, a bookshelf, a small desk, and a sofa. If you need anything else, just let us know."
"I will, thank you."
"Okay then, we'll meet you downstairs in an hour. Jon cooked dinner for everyone."
"Thank you. Mrs. Linder?"
"I think it's time you call me Elizabeth," she says with a smile.
"Elizabeth, you've been so kind to me. I don't even know what to say."
"You do a great job taking care of Noah. That's all the thanks we need. He loves you like a sister. We appreciate everything you do, and none of it has ever gone unnoticed."
***
After I put my clothes away and shower, I join the family downstairs.
I have never heard the Linders talk this much before.
"Tomorrow," begins Mrs. Linder, "I'm interviewing two people for housekeeper and three for the gardening job."
"They all come highly recommended," says Jon. "I'm sure you'll find the perfect candidates."
"We did find Shay after we thought we had exhausted all options," says Mr. Linder, shooting me a fatherly wink.
"I can't wait to get away for the weekend," says Mrs. Linder. "We haven't been to New York just to enjoy it in years."
"There are some good office spaces that I'd like to look at in the next couple of days," says Mr. Linder. "Two here and the other two in Cold Spring. I was hoping you'd come with me to help me make the final choice."
"Yes, of course," says Mrs. Linder, "I can't wait to see them."
"Is Cold Spring far away?" I ask.
"It's less than ten minutes from here," Mr. Linder responds.
"It's a small village next to the Hudson River," says Mrs. Linder. "It attracts weekend visitors from New York and tourists from out of state. "You can spend the entire day strolling Main Street, visiting all the quaint little shops along the way."
"Jon," says Mr. Linder, "you'll have to take Shay to Cold Spring and show her around."
"Oh, no," I say, feeling a rush of embarrassment land on my face. "Please, there's really no—."
"I would love to," says Jon before I can object, his dark eyes assessing me. I try to maintain a neutral expression but can't do anything about the blushing.
"Thank you," I say—more to end the conversation than to accept the invitation.
"I learned how to swim," Noah chimes in excitedly.
Thank you, Noah, for changing the subject. I smile, feeling the blush dissipate.
"Daddy is teaching me how to ride my bike, and Shay taught me how to write my name, the alphabet, and my numbers."
"That's great," says Jon. "I can't wait for you to show me everything you've learned."
I spend the rest of the time playing with my food, moving it around my plate, but not really eating. I'm listening to every word, though, wanting to learn more about Jon, my only connection to Jimmy's last days. Our conversation was interrupted earlier, and I'd like nothing more than to pick up where we left off. On second thought, I may take him up on his offer to take me to Cold Spring.
"I'll clean up the kitchen," says Jon, picking up his plate after dinner. "I'm sure you're all exhausted."
"All right," says Mrs. Linder, handing him her plate. "Thank you, Sweetheart."
"I'll take Noah upstairs," I say, after putting Noah’s and my plates in the sink. "I'll show him his playroom, and then we can read a book. How does that sound, Noah?"
"Yes," he says, taking my hand, "Did you see my room, Shay? I love dinosaurs!"
***
"Shay." I think I hear my name, but it sounds so far away.
"Sharon." I hear it again, and this time, I force my eyes to open. I quickly realize I'm lying beside Noah on his bed with an open book on my chest, and Jon is standing by the door.
"I was walking by," Jon whispers, "and I noticed the lights were still on."
"I'm so sorry," I say, sitting up on the bed. "I guess I fell asleep."
"Don't apologize," he says. "I was going to let you sleep, but all night in that position would've left you with a sore neck."
"No, no," I say, looking at my watch, which is still three hours behind. "Thank you for waking me up. It's only seven in California. I should be wide awake."
"You had a long day."
I stand to my feet and straighten my skirt before putting the book back on the shelf and walking to the door.
"Good night," I say, walking past him.
"Good night, Sharon."
***
I usually wake up without an alarm clock, but not today. When the morning light shines through my window, I look at the clock beside my bed. It reads six thirty, but my internal clock says it's much earlier, and it wants me to hit the snooze button. I'm exhausted.
I get up, shower, and change into a yellow button-up blouse with a high collar, pegged fold-over jeans with a thin belt that matches the blouse, and some leather slip-ons. My hair is not cooperating today, so keeping it out of the way is best. I French-braid it to the side and tie it with a ribbon. It'll have to do.
I find Jon mixing batter in a bowl when I walk into the kitchen at half past seven.
"Good morning," he says. "Do you like pancakes?"
"I do," I say. "Can I help?"
"Help yourself to a cup of coffee. I can't believe you're up."
"Thanks," I say, smiling. "Do I look that bad?"
"No," he says, glancing at me. "You look great."
"Thanks."
"Um, the cups are in here," he says, pointing the whisk at the cabinet door beside him.
He glances at me when I reach into the cupboard and pull out a cup. I expect him to say something, but he doesn't.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says.
"You gave me a look."
"It's nothing," he insists. "You smell nice."
"Oh," I say. "Thank you."
So I look great, and I smell nice. So does he.
After I pour myself a cup of coffee, I sit at the table, wanting to take advantage of this time alone with him.
"So you knew Jimmy?" I ask.
He stops whisking and takes a deep breath before exhaling slowly, but he doesn't look at me.
"Yes, I knew Jimmy." He's avoiding my gaze, opting to look out the window instead.
"He called you a friend in his last letter."
"We were friends," he says. "We were in the same squad."
"Were you with him the day he died?"
"Yes."
"Can you talk about it?"
"It was an accident."
"I know," I say. "But how did it happen? What happened to him?" When my voice cracks, I close my eyes and swallow the lump of emotion forming in my throat.
I watch him take a cup from the cupboard and pour some coffee. He joins me at the table, taking the chair across from me.
I take a sip of coffee and brace myself for what I'm about to hear.
"Good morning," Mr. Linder's cheerful greeting cuts through the tension and makes Jon and me smile.
"Good morning," I say. "Can I pour you a cup of coffee?"
"Yes, thank you," he says, leaning back against the countertop with his arms crossed. He looks rested and relaxed.
"Good morning, Dad. What are you doing up so early?"
"I'm meeting with a couple of investors who are funding five of the seven rehabs I've scheduled for the next six months."
"You just got here and already have meetings to attend?"
"Why put off until tomorrow what I can accomplish today?" Mr. Linder says, reaching for the cup of coffee I just poured him. "Besides, your mom and I are spending next weekend in New York. I want to get things rolling before we leave. I can't relax when I have pending matters."
"Are you taking Noah with you?" Jon asks.
"We'd like to leave him here with you and Shay."
"I don't know if I'm moving in," Jon says. "I might stay in Loren's guesthouse for the time being."
"Loren?" I ask. "Are you talking about Lorenza Betancourt by any chance?"
"Yes," he says. "You know her?"
"I met her on the plane," I say, smiling. "Wow, talk about a small world."
"So she got back a day early," Jon says. "Loren's our neighbor. You'll reach her house if you walk across our property out back. I'm her tenant."
"So you're the tenant she mentioned," I say. "She didn't use your name."
"Well," Mr. Linder says, "you two work it out amongst yourselves."
"Noah and I will be fine here," I say. "We have a lot to explore."
"Great, then that's settled," says Mr. Linder. "I have to go. I'll see you both tonight. Oh, and Shay, Elizabeth and I would like it if you start addressing us by our first names."
"But I've always called you Mr. and Mrs. Linder."
"Well, now that we're all living under the same roof, it makes sense to drop the formalities."
"Okay, Mr. Linder. I'm sorry, David. I'll have to practice."
When Mr. Linder walks out the door, Jon turns to me and asks, "Do you want to visit Loren later? We can take Noah with us."
"As long as it's okay with your mom," I say.
"Did you still want to talk about Jimmy?" he asks. "I understand your wanting to know what happened. If it'll help you in any way, we can talk about it."
My heart starts thumping in my chest.
"Part of me wants to know every detail of what happened," I say. "The other part thinks my heart won't be able to handle it."
"The story was on all the news stations and newspapers," he says.
"I know, but I avoided everything concerning what happened," I say. "I'm a coward."
"So am I," he says.
"What do you mean?"
"Sharon, I went to Jimmy's funeral to pay my respects. I was there but didn't have the courage to approach you."
"You were there," I say, looking into his eyes. "I wish you had said something. It might be hard for you to understand, but I think I was more prepared to hear all the details about the accident back then than now. I didn't want to hear it on the news or read it in the papers, but hearing it from someone who was there might have made it easier. I honestly don't know."
"Sharon, there's something you should know."
"Jon, wait. I don't think I want to know. Please."
"Are you sure?" he asks, looking both surprised and relieved.
"My heart is beating so fast right now," I say. "Once you tell me, there's no going back. Knowing won't change anything, but it might change me. I've made it this far without knowing. No, don't tell me."
"But I can tell you what I planned to tell you that day at the cemetery."
"What?" I ask as he reaches over and puts his hand over mine.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," he says. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you," I say.
I notice his eyes glistening with tears before he quickly releases my hand and stands up.
"Do you prefer blueberries or chocolate chips in your pancakes?"
"Chocolate chips," I say as he walks over to the stove. He's not facing me, but I can tell he just wiped away some tears.