Chapter 14 #2
“Okay,” Amber drawls, stepping from the Jack and Jill bathroom into the bedroom I’ll be sharing with my daughters. “So he hasn’t furnished much. At least it’s clean.”
“And cool,” Delta sighs before flopping onto the made floor bed. I’ll give her that. It’s so much easier to breathe now that the humidity and temperature are at a comfortable level.
When there’s a brief knock at the door, I turn to find Jonah peeking through the crack. “I have towels for you.” Delta opens the door, but he stays right where he is and hands her the stack. “Use the tub and shower. Use anything in my home. Seriously.”
My daughter carries away the tower of towels, and I step closer. “Thank you. This is very kind of you.”
The way his lips turn up causes a deep dimple to appear. He scrunches the fabric of his black rugby shorts in his fists, and if I had a little privacy, a little more time, I’d let my eyes wander down his colorful floral arm tattoos and admire the rain-made sheen coating his tan skin.
“Anything for you,” he says. “I mean, anything you need, or want, just let me know. Or just take it. I’m gonna go check on the animals one last time tonight and then I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks, Jonah.”
He leaves, but calls back from down the hall, “If you see Yogi puttering around, be extra nice. He’s drugged up.”
After showers and rebraiding of hair, we slip into pajamas. Since I’m staying in someone else’s home, I opt for a comfortable sleeping bra under my light blue summer pajama set.
The entire time I am readying myself for bed, I think about him.
How he just showed up with his SUV and coolers and took charge.
It’s been a long time since I let someone else do that.
Let. For many years when I was married, I had no choice and no control.
I crave it now. I expect it now. I rely on myself, and sometimes on Amber, but never another man.
But tonight, unexpectedly, it feels good.
I’m still on alert; I’m still in mama bear mode, but I breathe a sigh of relief at someone else doing something helpful for me.
I think about how he respected my wishes. He waited on my porch and didn’t try to enter my home. Even when he stood at the guest room door, he didn’t make a move to come inside. He just handed over the towels and gave us our privacy.
That’s not the same Jonah I had as a student. Student Jonah never respected my boundaries.
When he called Delta Ladybug, my stupid heart fluttered, and it made me want to let him in where I never thought I’d let another person go—where no one should have access.
And then there’s the way he checked on his family—offering them a safe place to stay, just like us.
I would have never thought that Jonah, the irritating, careless boy I knew from my class, the one who thought the world revolved around him, the one who could charm his way out of any circumstance, would be here offering my family his home.
For someone who seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, he’s a weird little puzzle I’m having a hard time piecing together.
By the time I’m ready for bed, I make my way downstairs and find everyone sitting around the large kitchen island, poking at a strange charcuterie assortment.
Jonah flashes his pearly whites when he spots me.
“Delta said you already had dinner, but I thought you might like a snack before bed.” He gestures to the spread of cheddar cheese, apple slices, lunch meat, mustard, pretzels, and some kind of ball about an inch in size.
“These are chocolate protein bites. I eat them after a workout.”
“They’re fantastic,” Amber mumbles through a mouthful.
Lo doesn’t seem to care about the food, opting for a spot next to Yogi on the floor. She rubs her finger through his long white hair and lays her head on his side, as if this giant guard dog is just another one of her stuffies.
I pluck an apple and cheese slice from the cutting board. “Thank you again.”
“I didn’t have much in the fridge, but I can go into town tomorrow and get more.”
“It’s okay, Jonah. We’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, anyway. Your animals are good?” I ask with a nod toward his back door.
“Oh yeah. Ginger’s happy with Rugger close by and fresh hay. The ducks have settled in. I gave them watermelon to munch on, and they are loving it.”
“Ducks eat watermelon?” Delta asks.
“They love fruit and veggies. I also learned they eat bugs! Isn’t that gross?”
“Like Timon and Pumbaa,” she replies with a smile.
“Exactly. Hey, would you ladies like a tour of the house?”
“Yes,” Amber replies in haste, like she’s been dying to accept the offer. And, truth be told, I am too. I will not deny myself the pleasure of snooping through another person’s home.
Jonah leads us through the six-bedroom, six-bathroom estate that was built in 1880, with additions done in the 20s and 70s.
Incredible stonework and arched ceilings are everywhere, and there’s a magnificent fireplace I would kill to curl up next to with a good book and a piping hot mug of Earl Grey.
A drugged-up Yogi follows us from room to room where Jonah lights up, explaining everything.
I can’t help but wonder where he got the money for this place.
I want to ask more questions even more than I want to use his decadent soaker tub, which appears unused.
Ugh, men! They don’t deserve tubs like this—deep, and wide enough for big hips—with a gold freestanding faucet.
Throughout the tour, it’s clear he doesn’t have a clue what he’s going to do about furniture. Our bedrooms tipped me off he had done little in the way of decorating, but entire rooms sit empty. There is no dining table, no comfortable chairs, no TV stand or artwork.
What he has are boxes, a seventy-inch TV sitting on the floor, and a couch that, if he told me it came from his college apartment, I would believe him.
I glimpsed into his bedroom and found at least some matching furniture in there.
I dared not linger. The last thing I want him to catch a whiff of is my interest. It would be stupid of me to let a man of his age think there’s anything between us.
Ugh, look at me, thinking there’s even the possibility of something between us. Who the hell do I think I am?
Despite the lack of furniture and decor, his rough-hewn, winery-like home is beautiful and comforting all on its own.
Even as the wind and rain blow outside and the storm’s hum muffles the sound of everything else, there’s an undeniable sense of safety here.
Like even if a Wizard of Oz-style tornado tore in and picked up the house, there’d be nothing to fear.
What the hell is that about?
“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” he says, before sweeping open a glass door in his basement. It’s then that I realize where Jonah has focused his furnishing attention. “This is my studio.”
Delta’s jaw drops at the sight of the control panel. “Whoa. It looks like a spaceship in here.”
All at once, my sense of safety feels both brittle and reinforced, and I have to stop in my tracks.
I grew up in rooms like this. Fell asleep on control room couches as my parents sang me to sleep.
Watched in rapture as a song found its roots and planted itself in my soul.
I lit up like fireworks the first time they invited me to record with them.
I can still feel the press of mandolin strings tight beneath my grip as I tried to reel in my unbridled joy.
But though these are wonderful memories, they’re intertwined with ones of Greg. An alluring man, he was once revered in music producing and trusted by everyone. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Studios were once a place I felt at home—I felt special and cool and powerful. Greg extinguished that. He disposed of the evidence and covered his tracks, oblivious or uncaring of what these rooms meant to me.
“Are you”—I start, but have to clear my throat of the crack—“some kind of music producer?”
“It’s just a hobby. But music management was my major in college.”
I lower my brow. “And you took a nature study course from me?”
He lifts a shoulder. “It was a cultural enrichment. It was either that, which my brother had all the notes for and could pass them along to me, or take something like philosophy.”
The image of Jonah Johanssen partaking in meaningful, philosophical discussions is slightly more unrealistic than a biology course, I’ll give him that.
“You know, I knew when you turned something in that was Dane’s work, right?”
He pulls at the back of his neck and groans. “Ugh, yeah. You threatened to fail me multiple times. And then you did fail me at the end of the semester for plagiarism."
An affectionate smile lifts the corners of my lips and my mood. “Oh yeah. Good times.”
“Did you know Renée is an incredible singer?” my unhelpful sister asks. “She also plays the mandolin.”
Jonah’s eyes round and he beams. “I have a mandolin in here!” He opens the door to the tracking room, where I fight back a gasp at all the instruments lined up and hanging on the walls. Even though most are covered, I can easily spot a mandolin case.
The girls head straight for the keyboard.
“Why do you have so many instruments?” I ask.
“I can play most of them. Music is everything to me. It’s like an itch that needs to be scratched every day.” He turns to Amber, who’s gliding her hand against a symbol. “Do you play?”
“Oh, no. Renée got all the talent from our parents, sadly. What I got was a crippling sense of stage fright.”
“Your parents are musical?”
I bob my head. “Mom is, and Dad was. He died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Mom used to perform on stage with them,” Delta says from her bench seat next to Lo. “But she doesn’t sing anymore.”
My heart twists in an uncomfortable knot as Jonah’s stare flicks between Amber and me.
“Have you ever heard of David and Ophelia Wilde?” Amber hedges.