Chapter 6 #5
She still found it hard to believe Cassidy's kids called her Aunt Claire, and that had started long before she knew Cassidy was her sister. Ian and Eva represented something else, something that felt more fragile. And far more... frightening.
Jameson smiled. "I understand."
"Huh?"
"It's a little strange when it starts happening."
Claire tilted her head.
"The grandkids have never called me Grandma or Nana. Spencer always called me Jay or Jay Jay, and they all followed his lead." Jameson shrugged. "The first time I heard Maddie tell Shell's twins that I was their grandma, I nearly hit the floor."
Claire snorted a giggle.
"Yeah. I know. I skipped straight past parenthood into grandma territory. It was crazy."
"Kind of funny, though."
"Yeah," Jameson agreed. "It was."
Then her expression shifted.
"Then we adopted Coop," she said.
Claire watched her.
"I never expected him to call us Mom or Mama," Jameson said.
"I don't know. He's ours, and we're his, but it felt like taking something from him that we had no right to.
He remembered his mom. Neither of us would ever have suggested he call us that.
The first time he did was..." She stopped and shook her head. "Overwhelming."
Claire nodded. "I don't think El's kids will ever call me their mom. Even if they come to me for things."
"Maybe they won't."
Claire looked at Jameson.
"But if they do, remember it's their choice. And no matter what they call you, it doesn't change what they feel."
Claire took a sip of beer, mostly to give herself something to do.
Alex had said something similar recently. Claire had changed the subject then, too. It felt like sacred ground. And not hers to tread.
"I wish they were," Claire said softly. "But they had a dad."
"Sure," Jameson said. "That doesn't mean they can't have another mom, too."
Claire sighed.
"I get it," Jameson said. "And when I say I get it, I mean I get it."
"You know what's completely messed up?"
Jameson shook her head.
"It's still weird sometimes for me to call Rose Mom.
But that makes sense. Maybe it's easier because I know my mother wanted me to know Rose.
" Claire chuckled, though there was little humor in it.
"But Jim? I still don't know what I'm supposed to do with him.
I hated my father, JD. He was..." She took a breath.
"I'd like to say he was a mean son of a bitch.
I think I could have handled that better than him being a manipulative prick. "
Jameson listened.
"And even though I hated him, I still feel guilty when I slip and call Jim my father." Claire looked toward the doorway where Ian had disappeared. "I don't want the kids to feel that way. You know?"
"I think so."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It's different, but I feel that way sometimes with Pearl."
Claire blinked. "Why?"
"I love my mom," Jameson said.
"Your mom is awesome."
Jameson beamed. "Yeah. She really is. I spent years not fully appreciating how lucky I am.
It's not like I never had arguments with my parents.
We all do. But my parents are great. They've always stood by my brothers and me.
By our kids." She took a sip of beer. "So it feels a little like a betrayal sometimes, being as close to Pearl as I am. "
"Really?"
Jameson shrugged. "I was thirty-five when I met Pearl. But she's my mom as much as my own mother is. Different. But true."
Claire sighed.
Personal relationships still challenged her. Understanding her own feelings was difficult enough. Accepting that anyone wanted to claim her as a sister, aunt, friend, daughter, or parent felt like too much to hope for. More than she deserved.
And Claire never wanted to take something that wasn't hers.
It might surprise people to know she had always felt that way.
It was the biggest reason she had never allowed herself a committed relationship before she met Hawk.
She had always felt alone. Untethered. Sometimes, feeling close to someone made Claire want to cut the tie before it could become a noose.
She didn't want to hurt. More importantly, she didn't want to cause more hurt.
Jameson seemed to understand without Claire explaining it. That was one of the reasons Claire liked her. Jameson didn't make her feelings feel like a malfunction.
"You're thinking too hard," Jameson said.
Claire laughed once. "That's what El says."
"El is wise."
"Yeah. She is."
"So is Pearl, and my mother. Candace, too… when she isn't being stubborn."
Claire lifted a brow.
Jameson grinned. "Fine. Candace is wise and stubborn. It's a package deal."
Claire smiled, then looked toward the doorway again. "I don't know how to do this."
"Parenting?"
"Any of it."
Jameson nodded slowly. "Neither did I."
"Come on."
"I'm serious. I knew how to show up. I knew how to make dinner, drive kids to places, and clean up messes.
You know, like when a kid draws all over the wall.
" She smiled, then shrugged. "But knowing how to be what someone needs?
Nobody really knows how to do that. You just kind of learn as you go, I think. "
Claire looked skeptical.
"You learn the kid," Jameson said. "That's all parenting is at the start. You learn them. What scares them. What calms them. What makes them laugh. When they need space and when they need you to sit on the edge of the bed until they fall asleep."
Claire looked down at the bottle in her hand.
"And you let them learn you," Jameson added.
"Uh, JD. That sounds like a terrible idea."
Jameson laughed. "Maybe don't share all your past adventures with them just yet."
Claire laughed softly. "Or ever."
Jameson leaned back. "It's worth it, Claire. Even if it's terrifying."
Ian's giggle echoed up the stairs, followed by Spencer saying, "Not on the wall. Paper. Paper, Ian. Craig, no, not the floor. The paper."
Jameson closed her eyes. "Famous last words."
Claire chuckled.
"Don't overthink it," Jameson advised. "Just let it be."
"That's kind of like telling a fish not to swim."
"Sometimes it's okay to float."
"Not if you're a fish."
Jameson's laughter carried into the kitchen, warm and unguarded.
Marianne glanced toward the doorway, then looked back at Eleana. "Sounds like someone is having fun."
Eleana smiled as she bounced Eva gently on her knee. "Or causing trouble."
"Probably both," Marianne said.
Eleana shook her head, chuckling. "Probably."
For a moment, they sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the house—the children in the basement, Jameson's laughter from the other room, the faint thud of feet somewhere overhead.
"How are you?" Marianne asked.
Eleana's smile softened. "Most days? Great."
"And the others?"
"It varies," Eleana admitted.
Marianne nodded. "It's not easy juggling children, grief, and a new relationship."
"No," Eleana said. "It isn't." She looked down at Eva, who was busy studying the buttons on Eleana's sweater.
"I think most people look at me and Claire and assume because we've known each other nearly our entire lives—because we've loved each other in some way for so long—that it doesn't feel new. "
Marianne smiled.
"And some days, it doesn't," Eleana said. "Some days it feels old and familiar."
"But?"
"But Claire is different now. Still afraid," Eleana said gently. "But not enough to run away."
"That's good."
“It is.” Eleana’s expression softened. “It’s hard for her, Marianne.
Claire isn’t who people think she is. She feels things deeply.
She’s also the most intelligent person I know.
And sometimes those two things make her overthink everything until she’s convinced herself she’s a problem to be solved instead of a person to be loved. ”
Marianne nodded.
“I just?—”
“What?” Marianne asked.
“This baby is Jonathan’s,” Eleana said, her hand moving instinctively over her stomach. “And she’ll know that. We’ll make sure she knows that. But she’s also ours. Mine and Claire’s. And I don’t want Claire to feel like loving this baby means taking something from Jonathan.”
“You don’t need to explain,” Marianne said softly. “Believe me, I understand. I’ve lived it. And I’ve watched JD struggle with it, especially in the beginning.”
Eleana looked at her.
“I didn’t make it easier,” Marianne admitted, chuckling softly.
“No?”
“No. I’ve always been a little overprotective of my mom. She’d say I sometimes forget who the mother is in our relationship.”
Eleana smiled.
“I watched what she went through with my father,” Marianne said. “And later, with Jessica. But it wasn’t only her hurt. It was ours, too. Shell’s. Jonah’s. Mine. Her loss became our loss in some way.”
Eleana nodded.
“Letting JD in felt…” Marianne searched for the word.
“Risky,” Eleana said.
“Yes. Risky.”
Eleana looked down at Eva again, brushing a hand over the little girl’s hair. “I understand that.”
“El, I?—”