17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Sharon - Four Years Later
Betty, Anthony, and I look at each other and smile as we move our tassels from the right to the left and then toss our caps high up in the air. When I bend over to pick up my cap, I look at the pretty opal gemstone on the class ring I now wear on my ring finger. I reflect on the fact that the most important person in my life missed my high school graduation, and tonight, Loren is the one missing from the audience at my college graduation.
After I left Garrison, Loren and I kept in touch, talking on the phone several times a week. When she moved to Los Angeles a year later, we picked up where we left off. I spent more time with her than with anyone else. Betty and Anthony joked that I should have paid her rent because I spent more time in her house than in ours. Loren was my best friend and closest confidant for the last three years.
She passed away two weeks ago, leaving a great void in my heart. The Linders were at the funeral, so I got to speak to them briefly. Noah, who's now eight, recognized me immediately.
"Shay!" he exclaimed, running to me and hugging me tightly.
"Hi, Noah! You've gotten so tall. I missed you so much." I couldn't help but get emotional.
"We're moving to Japan!" he said.
"You're moving where?" I asked.
"Japan!"
"Oh my goodness," I said, "That's going to be quite an adventure. Is everyone going?"
I'm sure the reason for my question was not overlooked.
"No," Mr. Linder said, "Jon is staying here."
"That's a pretty big move," I said, not hiding my surprise. "You have family there, right?"
"David's parents and brother live in Okinawa," Mrs. Linder said. "We'll live there for a year before deciding whether to make it permanent or return. We still have our business here, so a year feels right."
"What about your house in Garrison?"
"Jon is moving in," Mrs. Linder said, "It'll be more house than he needs, but he's agreed to it."
"When do you leave?"
"Next week!" Noah said.
"That soon?"
"We've been planning it for a couple of years," Mr. Linder said.
When I glanced behind Mr. Linder, I saw Jon walking towards us with a gorgeous blonde woman on his arm. That must be Susan, I thought.
He approached me and said hello but made no attempt to hug me.
"Hi," I said, feeling a lump in my throat and a painful tug on my heart.
"How are you?" he asked cooly.
"I'm good," I said.
"The last time I spoke to Loren," he said, "she was looking forward to your graduation. UCLA, right? She was so proud of you. Congratulations."
"Thank you," I said, wondering if he sensed my nervousness.
"Susan," he said, "this is Sharon. Sharon, Susan."
"It's nice to meet you," Susan said, shaking my hand, "I've heard so much about you."
"All good things," Mr. Linder assured me.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, Jon's gaze found mine again.
"It was nice to see you," he said. "Take care and congratulations again."
"Yeah, you too. Thanks."
When they all turned and walked away together, I felt a pang of envy. I wanted to go with them because they were the family that was once mine.
***
"Hi Gary," I say, greeting Loren's son the day after graduation.
"Hi, Sharon. Listen, I wanted to let you know the reading of Mom's will is scheduled for next Monday."
"Okay," I say, wondering what that has to do with me.
"When Mom moved to California, she put her house in Garrison in a living trust and named you the beneficiary."
"She left me her house?!" I ask in disbelief.
"Yes. She talked to me about it before she moved. I have no issues with it, Sharon. You were like a grandkid to Mom, and you did so much for her. Especially after she moved. I don't know what I would've done without you. You deserve to have it."
When the weight of his words sinks in, I feel a rush of gratitude reaching every fiber of my body.
"Gary, I don't know what to say."
"There is one catch."
"What's that?"
"You will have to live in the house for two years before you can sell it or rent it out."
"What?!"
"That was the only stipulation to your taking possession of the property."
"You're kidding," I say, dumbfounded. "My life is here."
"You just graduated from college. Mom told me you planned to travel for a year or two before looking for a teaching job."
"Gary, I can't just pick up and go."
"Of course you can. Your roommates can take care of your house here, and you can move to Garrison. Live in the house for a couple of years and then sell it if you want."
"You make it sound so easy. You know I never planned to return to New York."
"Plans change. Once you sell the house, you can do whatever you want with the money, but you must live in it for two years, and that's not up for debate."
"And if I refuse?"
"Would you really do that to Mom?"
"No. No, I wouldn't. When do I have to be there?"
"Next week."
***
As soon as I arrive in New York, I take a cab to the nearest car dealership and buy a small sedan. The one-hour drive to Garrison fills me with bittersweet memories and regret. I'm not the same girl I was four years ago. Time has healed my wounds, but time hasn't changed how I feel about Jon Linder. He's with Susan now. He's moved on. I wish I could say the same.
Loren made sure I never forgot Jon. She took every opportunity to let me know how he was doing and what he was up to.
"Jon got a permanent teaching position at the high school," she said, sounding like a proud grandmother.
"Jon is investing in his father's business."
"That's great," I said. “Mr. Linder must be so happy.”
"Jon bought a house in Cold Spring."
"Oh," I said. "He's putting down roots in New York." I'll never see him again , I thought.
"Jon bought another investment property."
"That's great, Loren," I'd say. "He's following in his father's footsteps."
"Jon is dating Susan again." That was a year ago, and that piece of information hurt.
"Is he happy?" I asked, feeling like I could cry.
"I think so," Loren said, not sounding sure. "She works in his father's firm."
I never stopped her from talking about him. Even if it hurt, I welcomed it. I looked forward to it. It was the only way I could stay connected to him.
I drive past the Linder property and see all the lights are on. It looks exactly the same, so I'm instantly filled with nostalgia. According to my calculations, the Linders have already moved to Japan, which means Jon is staying at the house.
I can't help but wonder if Susan is staying with him.
"Stop it!" I admonish myself.
Loren's house is just as welcoming now as it was the first time I stepped foot in it. Olivia comes by once a week to dust everything, and Robert takes care of the garden.
I walk around the living areas in the house, taking inventory of the framed photos on the walls and fireplace mantle—memories captured for eternity. I'll have to ask Gary if he wants me to ship some of these to him. There's a picture of Loren, Noah, and me covered in dirt after we all spent the morning planting some flowers in her garden. Jon brought out his camera and took this picture. I pick it up to study it. Noah was little. Loren was healthy. I was happy.
After I put my things away, I shower and change into a tank top and pajama bottoms. I debate whether to eat something or go to bed. Fatigue wins the battle, so I turn in early. A few minutes after I lie down, a knock on the back door startles me.
It's only eight o'clock. Maybe it's Robert or—.
"Jon." God, I want to hug him and let him know how much I've missed him.
"What are you doing here?" he asks, completely surprised but without a hint of warmth.
"It's a long story," I say.
"I saw the lights on and the car I didn't recognize," pointing a thumb at my silver Corolla.
"So you still keep an eye on the house."
"Sharon, what are you doing here?" he asks again, and this time, he doesn't hide his annoyance.
"I live here," I say, cutting to the chase.
"What?"
"Loren left me her house, but before I can sell it, I have to live here for two years."
"You're kidding."
"Nope. I'm not kidding." I search his face for a sign that he's happy to see me, but I find nothing. The man I used to be able to read like a book, the man who wore his heart on his sleeve, has hardened his heart against me. I feel it, and I have no one to blame but myself.
"My family left a few days ago. They'll be gone for a year, so I'm watching the house for them."
"I guess that makes us neighbors."
I can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he considers my words and what they mean.
"Do you want to come in?" I ask.
"Um, no, thank you. I have to get back to the house."
"Okay," I say, feeling disappointed.
"Welcome back," he says, walking away.
"Thank you. It's nice to be back."
***
When I called Loren and told her I wasn't returning to Garrison, she didn't sugarcoat her feelings on the subject.
"After what you went through with your father, you, of all people, should've shown Jon some compassion."
She was right. If I could do it all over again, I would. I was so close to finding love with Jon, but my immaturity and self-righteousness cost me everything.
I kept telling myself I was right and he was wrong. I was all too familiar with living without my loved ones, first with Dad and then with Jimmy, so I talked myself into a life without Jon.
Now, he's less than five minutes away, but the distance between us feels more like a bottomless pit.
I slip under the covers, feeling cold despite the warm evening. I know It has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with Jon's frigid welcome.
I miss Loren so much. I begin to cry, remembering the last few months of her life. When her illness made it difficult for her to get around, I started spending more and more time with her. We would watch movies and play cards, or she'd try to teach me how to crochet. Somehow, our conversations always veered toward Jon and how things ended between us.
"You have to find your way back to him, Honey."
"Too much time has passed," I said, "He's moved on with Susan."
"He fell into that relationship the first time," Loren said, "and he fell into it again."
"How do you fall into a relationship?"
"Jon's dad and Susan's dad are business partners. It's a relationship of convenience."
"That sounds terrible. I can't imagine Jon wanting something just because it's convenient."
"I'm sure he doesn't think of it that way, but he hasn't asked her to marry him either, so deep down inside, he knows."
The thought of Jon marrying someone else, no, I can't imagine it.
***
"When we get back home, I'm taking you to Cold Spring's Farmers’ Market, and I'm going to hold your hand the entire time,” Jon’s words still echo in my ears as I pick out some tomatoes, cheeses, bread, olive oil, and honey from local vendors at the farmers’ market. I'm paying for a dozen eggs when I hear my name called out.
"Sharon!"
I turn around to see a friendly face and a warm smile.
"Patrick!" I exclaim as he walks towards me, pushing a stroller.
"Hi. Oh my goodness, is this your daughter?"
"Yeah, yeah. This is Annie."
Annie is a chubby one-year-old with blond curls and blue eyes. She smiles and coos while swinging her stuffed teddy bear up and down, threatening to fling it to the ground at any moment.
"She looks just like you," I say.
"That's what people say," his smile is that of a proud and happy father.
"She's adorable."
"Thank you," he says. "Here, I want you to meet my wife."
I put the eggs in my canvas shopping bag and follow him to a pastry stand, where a petite blonde woman is paying for her purchase.
"Sweetie," he says, "I'd like you to meet someone."
When she turns around, she's holding her very pregnant belly and biting into a frosted mini coffee cake. She's beautiful.
"Hi," she says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I'm sorry, I have uncontrollable cravings these days."
"This is Sharon," Patrick says, "Sharon, this is my wife, Cara."
"It's nice to meet you," I say. "Do you know what you're having?"
"A boy," Cara says, licking frosting off a finger.
"Congratulations," I say, feeling genuinely happy for Patrick and his little family.
"You're going to have your hands full," I say. "How far apart will they be?"
"Well, if I make it to my due date, fifteen months apart."
I talk to them for a few minutes and then start heading toward my car, parked a couple of blocks away.
My heart skips a beat, and my mouth goes dry when I spot Jon and Susan walking towards me. She's laughing and holding onto his arm.
I hope they don't see me. Oh no, no, it's too late. Here they come.
"Hi, Sharon, right?" Susan asks in greeting, tightening her grip on Jon's arm.
"Yes. Hi."
"I thought you lived in San Diego."
"Los Angeles," I correct her. "I moved back."
"Oh. Was it something planned? I don't remember you mentioning it when we met at Loren's funeral."
"Plans change," I say, "and so here I am."
The entire time Susan and I talk, Jon's gaze is focused on me, but he doesn't say anything.
"Looks like you found a lot of things," Susan says, pointing at my shopping bag.
"I did," I say. "Well, I better get going. It was nice seeing both of you."
"Likewise," she says.
"Goodbye," Jon finally says before they both walk away.
Back at the house, I try to focus on something other than what happened at the farmers’ market.
I decide to make a fried egg sandwich for lunch using some of what I bought today.
I was so tired when I got here last night that I didn't even walk into the kitchen.
I set the bag on the counter and notice a letter addressed to me propped against the coffee pot. It's in Loren's handwriting.
I open it and pull out two smaller envelopes. One is addressed to Jon, and the other to me.
I open the envelope and begin reading.
The letter begins with " Dear Sharon ."